jCarrie  F.  Butler  Thwing 


AN    APPRECIATION   BY   FRIENDS 

TOGETHER  WITH   EXTRACTS 
FROM  HER 

JOURNAL  OF  A  TOUR  IN  EUROPE" 


Cleveland,  O. 

THE    HEIyMAN-TAYI^OR    COMPANY 

1899 


£Gn-U-^8 


Copyright, 

1899. 

Chari^bs  F.  Thwing, 


Content0^ 


I.    Introduction v. 

II.    The  Years  in  Farmington i 

Mrs.  Florence  Goodrich-Varney. 

III.  Thb  Years  in  Vassar  Coi,i,e;ge         .       -       -        .        4 

Professor  Marv  Augusta  Jordan. 

IV.  The  Years  in  Cambridge      -----  12 

Mrs.  Sarah  E.  Dawes. 

V.    The  Years  in  Minneapows 24 

Mary  T.  Hale. 

VI.    The  Years  in  Ci,evei,and     -----  27 

Professor  Emma  M.  Perkins. 


VII.    JouRNAi,  OF  A  Tour  in  Europe  -       -       -       -       37 


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1Intro^uction. 


D 


O  the  interpretations  of  the  life  and  character  of 
Carrie  F.  Butler  Thwing,  which  gracious  friends 
have  made,  it  is  fitting  that  certain  statements  of  mat- 
ters of  fact  be  added. 

Carrie  Frances  Butler  was  born  in  Farmington, 
Maine,  30  April,  1855.  Her  father,  Francis  Gould  But- 
ler, was,  as  is  said  of  him  in  a  sketch  written  by  his 
daughter,  a  "  quiet,  country  gentleman."  He  was  pos- 
sessed of  large  abilities  of  many  kinds.  He  was 
primarily  a  banker,  but  he  was  also  a  great 
citizen.  During  a  life  of  eighty  years  he  was  the 
most  conspicuous  man  of  his  town  and  of  that 
part  of  the  State  in  which  he  resided.  Her  mother, 
Julia  Wendell,  is  in  the  sixth  generation  directly  de- 
scended from  Kvart  Jansen  Wendell,  the  immigrant  an- 
cestor of  a  family,  long  distinguished  in  American  life 
and  letters.  A  woman  of  great  vigor  of  mind  and  body, 
she  has  throughout  a  long  life  given, — and  is  still  giv- 
ing,— herself,  with  great  enthusiasm,  to  the  concerns  of 
her  home,   her  church,  and  her  community.     To  Mr. 


vi  INTRODUCTION. 

and  Mrs.  Butler  were  born  four  daughters,  of  whom  one, 
and  she  the  youngest,  alone  lived  to  reach  mature  years. 

Among  the  chief  facts  of  this  life,  besides  those 
referred  to  in  the  following  pages,  are:  the  preparation 
for  college  in  the  Wendell  Institute,  under  the  charge  of 
Julia  H.  May  and  Sarah  R.  May  ;  the  entrance  into  Vas- 
sar  College  at  the  beginning  of  the  academic  year  of  1872; 
the  retirement  from  Vassar  College,  because  of  ill  health, 
near  the  middle  of  the  Junior  year ;  and  the  taking  up 
of  residence  in  Cambridge,  in  the  fall  of  1879,  having 
at  that  time  married  Charles  F.  Thwing.  She  lived 
in  Cambridge  until  1886.  For  the  four  years 
following  1886,  her  home  was  in  Minneapolis;  and 
in  the  fall  of  1890  she  removed  to  Cleveland,  where  on 
the  24th  of  April,  1898,  she  died.  To  her  were  born 
three  children,  one  in  Cambridge  and  two  in  Cleveland. 

Of  the  journal  which  forms  the  larger  part  of  this 
volume,  it  should  be  said  that  it  was  written  in  the 
course  of  the  journey  which  it  describes.  At  the  close 
of  a  day  or  of  a  period,  Mrs,  Thwing  recorded  the  im- 
pressions of  the  interval  which  it  covers.  She  had  no 
thought,  at  the  time  of  writing,  of  printing  what  she 
wrote.  The  writing  was  done  simply  for  the  purpose  of 
fixing  impressions.  The  record  is  now  printed  by  me 
chiefly  for  the  reason  that  it  embodies  the  qualities  of 
her  mind  and  heart  in  a  better  way  than  almost  any- 


INTRODUCTION.  vii 

thing  else  that  she  has  written.  It  is  printed  as  she 
wrote  it,  with  the  exception  of  certain  omissions  of  a 
personal  character.  I  may  add  that  I  have  thought  of 
printing  also  certain  of  her  letters  together  with  some 
extracts  from  articles  of  her  writing,  but  I  shall  not,  at 
least  at  present. 

In  a  letter  written  to  his  brother  Carl,  soon  after  the 
death  of  his  wife,  under  date  of  12th  January,  1778, 
I^essing  says,  "  they  say  it  is  only  praise  of  one's  self  to 
praise  one's  wife."  To  those  who  knew  Mrs.  Thwing 
it  is  as  needless,  as  it  would  be  unfitting,  for  me  to  praise 
her.  Should  the  book  fall  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
did  not  know  her,  I  can  only  say,  as  lycssing  wrote  to 
his  brother  Carl  also  of  his  own  wife,  ' '  but  if  you  had 
only  known  her."  C.  F.  T. 

24  April,  1899. 


Zbc  l?ear0  in  jfarmtngton. 


nHE  church  seemed  very  large  and  all  the  faces  new 
and  strange  the  Sabbath  that  I  joined  the  "girls' 
class"  at  the  Old  South.  The  kindly  pastor  (Mr. 
Howard),  and  superintendent  (Mr.  Merrill),  knew 
where  the  strange  child  would  find  a  welcome.  From 
the  moment  in  which  I  was  made  to  share  the  lesson, 
reading  the  texts  from  Carrie's  Bible,  I  was  possessed 
with  the  home  feeling  in  regard  to  that  church  and 
Sunday-school  which  has  always  remained.  Her  dig- 
nity and  grace  were  so  combined,  even  at  that  early 
age,  that  I  became  a  willing  captive  to  the  charms 
whose  fetters  tightened  with  the  passing  years.  And 
it  may  not  be  surprising  that  after  thirty  years  I  can 
readily  recollect  to  the  veriest  trifle  the  garments  she 
wore  that  day. 

Somewhat  later  our  new  pastor,  Mr.  Marden,  formed 
a  class  for  the  study  of  "Pilgrim's  Progress."  Here  we 
found  help  in  Carrie's  "marked  references"  in  the  same 
little  Bible,  and  had  the  kindly  loan  of  helps  upon  the 
subject  to  be  discussed,  from  her  home  library. 

Still  later,  at  the  time  of  her  conversion,  how 
precious  that  Bible  became  to  her;  and  I  learned  to  love 


2  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

my   own  the  better  for  the  new  light  that  had  fallen 
from  hers. 


The  grave  old  doctor  placed  his  foot  upon  his  trunk 
and  poised  a  vial  upon  his  thumb  and  finger.  I  knew 
the  gestures  so  well  that  I  hastened  to  turn  my  face 
before  he  pronounced  "No  more  school  this  term!" 
But  instead  of  tears,  the  happy  surprise  of  a  smile, 

A  thrifty,  saucy,  and  brilliant  geranium  bloomed 
upon  my  window-sill.  lyearning  that  the  same  fever 
had  stricken  me  from  which  she  was  seriously  ill,  Carrie 
had  forgotten  her  own  woes  in  order  to  relieve  mine. 
Words  can  never  express  the  eloquence  of  that  sermon  ! 
Flowers  far  more  rare  and  costly  often  fail  to  reach  my 
heart,  but  a  gleam  of  the  single  scarlet  geranium  still  stirs 
my  pulses.  And  when  we  went  from  the  "May  School," 
it  was  out  of  love  for  her  and  that  kindly  deed  that 
I  wore  "the  single  scarlet  geranium"  upon  my  gradu- 
ation dress. 


The  winter  day  was  drawing  to  its  close  when  the 
door  of  an  invalid's  room  opened  to  admit  a  huge  express 
package.  The  contents  proved  to  be  the  softest,  warmest 
and  handsomest  California  blanket  obtainable.  A  com- 
plimentary note  from  Carrie  explained  that  when  she 
received    the    gift    of    a    pair    of  blankets    she    could 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  3 

not  refrain  from  dividing  their  warmth  and  beauty  with 
her  friend. 


The  evening  before  my  visit  to  a  large  city  was 
passed  with  Carrie.  We  talked  of  the  churches  I  should 
visit,  the  exQursions  to  places  of  historical  interest,  and 
the  libraries  and  art  galleries  to  be  seen.  As  we  said 
good-bye  she  placed  a  sealed  letter  in  my  hand,  "not  to 
be  opened  until  you  are  home-sick."  What  school-girl, 
visiting  a  Canadian  city  for  the  first  time,  failed  of  home- 
sickness? And  the  seal  was  broken  to  find  a  crisp 
American  greenback  of  generous  size,  to  be  taken 
at  once  to  the  money-changers;  and  before  the  money 
was  spent  I  had  learned  many  lessons  through  her 
generosity. 

When  we  consider  that  these  acts  were  performed 
by  a  child,  spontaneously  and  without  suggestion  from 
others,  is  it  a  wonder  that  many  have  been  blessed 
in  her  ? 

My  pen  gladly  presses  forward  to  the  Christmas  day 
when  it  was  my  privilege  to  introduce  to  her  my  life-long 
friend  and  her  future  husband.  I  remember,  too, 
another  day,  ten  years  later,  when,  for  an  hour,  she 
and  I  left  our  little  children  and  sat  again  under  the 
trees  on   the  river  bank. 

FlX)RENCE   GoODRICH-VARNSY. 


Zbc  IPeare  in  IDaeear  College. 


r^ll OMEN'S  education  in  the  United  States  twenty-five 
mMM  years  ago  was  far  less  a  matter  of  course  than  it  is 
today.  There  was  a  flavor  of  adventure  about  it  that 
was  absorbing,  if  not  final.  Hardly  any  group  of  women 
gathered  in  the  few  institutions  claiming  the  title  of 
higher,  without  some  at  least  who  felt  high  purpose 
and  keen,  if  vague,  ambition.  There  was  a  pulse  of 
expectancy  in  the  air  of  dormitories  and  of  class-rooms. 
The  present  stretched  alluringly  far  and  wide,  full  of 
suggestion,  infinite  with  possibilities.  The  result  was 
that  most  of  us  felt  ourselves  to  be  as  vaguely 
powerful  as  our  surroundings  were  indefinitely  stimu- 
lating. In  the  routine  of  our  deeply  significant,  though 
somewhat  submerged  lives,  our  sense  of  imperfection 
and  inefiiciency  took  on  the  aspect  of  everlasting 
tentative.  We  had  all  the  consolation  of  eternal 
youth  in  our  absorption  in  what  we  were  doing.  The 
reflection  from  the  wide  outlook  of  our  teachers 
attached  to  our  view  of  ourselves  and,  atoms  as  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  impersonal  life  about  us,  we 
secured  compensation  in  the  sense  of  identity  and  of  share 
in  all  stages  of  that  life.     So  most  of  us  felt  more  courage 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  5 

and  took  greater  risks  than  we  would  have  shown  at 
home.  The  corporate  life  embraced  and  supported  us  in 
so  many  ways  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  we  thought  it 
endless,  nor  that,  as  parts  of  it,  we  fancied  ourselves 
serene  and  imperturbable.  Our  teachers  and  our  friends 
sometimes  wondered  at  this  daring.  They  were  seldom 
without  surprise  at  the  difference  between  the  quiet, 
uninsistent  girl  before  she  went  to  college  and  the  appar- 
ently reckless  member  of  one  of  the  four  classes. 

To  this  day  I  remember  the  feeling  of  buoyant,  almost 
insolent,  well-being  that  used  to  pervade  the  crowds  in 
the  Vassar  halls.  I  shall  never  forget  how  after  one  had 
got  thoroughly  into  the  atmosphere,  misfortune,  calam- 
ity, death  itself  and  carking  anxiety  seemed  to  withdraw. 
I^ater  notice  of  them  seemed  intrusive,  spiritually  imper- 
tinent, properly  relegated  to  the  short  vacations,  or  to  the 
end  of  the  college  year.  Even  the  friendly  services  owed 
and  rendered  to  our  friends  lost  force  and  poignancy  by 
repetition  and  by  becoming  part  of  a  system  so  big  that 
fear  was  swallowed  up  in  organization  and  in  inefl&ciency. 
For  four  years  the  ordinary  college  student  of  those  early 
days  was  one  of  the  immortals.  Theory  and  experiment 
supplied  the  touch  of  the  infinite  that  is  the  hopeful  side 
of  the  unfinished  and  the  incomplete.  We  were  lost  in  a 
maze  of  propitious  conjecture  and  found  ourselves  in 
every  prosperous  happening  about  us.     I  do  not  know 


6  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

that  we  expected  anything  definite  of  ourselves  or  of  our 
way  of  living.  We  were  still  too  young  for  that,  but  we 
did  feel  that  all  time  was  ours  and  that  it  was  ours  for 
the  same  inconclusive  uses  that  we  were  making  of  it 
then.  We  were  perfectly  familiar  with  the  proverbial 
philosophy  about  mortal  man  and  fleeting  time,  but  for 
us  time  stayed  and  the  mortal  put  on  immortality.  Duty 
lost  much  of  its  imperative  and  took  on  privilege  and 
wide  spaciousness  for  easy  endeavor.  The  costly  and 
careful  system  about  us  seemed  made  that  we  might  work 
out  the  profitable  experiments  we  felt  ourselves  to  be. 
Even  physical  health  ceased  to  be  a  problem;  we  took  it 
as  it  came  with  a  serene  interest  in  complications  as 
aspects  of  variety,  at  once  pleasing  and  remunerative. 
We  had  the  confident  appetite  for  life  resulting  from  the 
preparation  and  self-denial  which  had  brought  us  to 
college  and  had  kept  us  in  ignorance  of  what  our  freedom 
and  immunity  cost.  We  were  all  hungry  for  experience, 
and  most  of  us  were  quite  ignorant  of  what  it  meant. 
We  assented  to  propositions  about  sorrow  and  the  lot  of 
man,  but  we  felt  that  sorrow  was  interesting  and,  in  a 
high  sense,  ornamental.  Ulysses,  the  much-enduring, 
was  a  hero  with  strong  claims  on  our  sympathy ;  and 
strength  was  synonymous  with  efficiency. 

So    our    life    went    on    in    symbol     for    some    of 
us,    in   dumb   show   for  others,  but   there    was  every- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  ^ 

where  a  sense  of  more  being  intended  than  was  ex- 
pressed, I  am  sure.  I,  for  one,  felt  that  we  were 
living  in  a  character  writ  small  against  possibilities 
practically  infinite.  On  the  chance  of  entertaining 
angels  unawares,  it  was  well  to  be  patient  with 
folly  and  eccentricity.  In  the  vast  reaches  of  human 
development,  present  disagreeableness  never  seemed 
material  for  crises.  Doubtless  there  were  persons  of  our 
age  who  felt  small  anxieties,  possibly  suffered  from 
narrow  incomes,  or  from  excessive  diffidence,  but  we 
were  easy  about  them  after  all  on  the  ground  that  they 
would  see  the  error  of  their  ways  and  come  to  rest  in  the 
strong  sweep  of  the  ideal  life  as  it  moved  forward.  Then 
there  were  some  ungracious  beings  who  fumed  and  fretted 
about  the  misfits  of  human  life,  others  who,  clothed  in  the 
little  brief  authority  of  their  learning,  moral  superiority 
or  social  position,  strutted  offensively  and  made  ugly 
caricature  of  themselves  in  their  callowness,  but  we  felt 
that  they  would  work  in  finally,  and  meantime  they 
added  to  the  complexity  of  the  scene  before  us. 

In  this  temper  of  ours,  the  history  brought  to 
us  down  the  tide  of  the  years  was  no  less  ours 
than  that  spread  out  day  by  day  on  the  reading  room 
tables,  and  ours  no  less  than  the  contributions  doled 
out  to  us  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  by  the  teacher 
who   stood   guard   over  the  legal  trust  represented   by 


8  CARRIE  F.  SUTLER  THWING. 

every  batch  of  United  States  mail.  By  degrees  we 
came  to  feel  ourselves  indestructible.  Privileged  with 
an  all-embracing  privilege.  At  least  this  was  the 
experience  of  many  who,  like  myself,  were  keenly 
sensitive  to  the  influence  of  the  corporate  life  about  us. 
The  emphasis  on  the  communal  personality  seemed  to 
extend  our  boundaries  and  make  us  all  vital  at  every 
point  of  contact  with  the  past  or  the  present,  the  ideal  or 
the  real. 

My  experience  had  been  increasingly  of  this  sort 
when  one  day  I  heard  a  new  voice  in  the  recitation 
room.  It  did  not  have  the  assertive  ring  with  which  I 
was  so  familiar  that  I  no  longer  listened  to  it.  The 
speaker  was  a  slender,  pliant- figured  girl,  and  what  she 
said  cut  curiously  across  our  ordinary  class-room  utter- 
ance. It  was  intensely  suggestive,  almost  alien.  One 
of  my  neighbors  touched  my  elbow  and  whispered, 
"She's  been  reading  Emerson;  she's  from  Maine."  In 
the  light  of  this  information  I  tried  to  account  for  the 
impression  of  aloofness  that  I  had  gained,  but  to  no  avail. 
Neither  reading  Emerson  nor  coming  from  Maine  would 
explain  this  curious  mixture  of  pathos  and  insight  and 
conclusiveness.  One  of  her  classmates  said  of  her, 
"Isn't  Carrie  awfully  mature?  I  wonder  if  all  the 
people  where  she  lives  were  born  furnished  with  ready- 
made  Emerson  ?  "     I  listened  with  interest,  for  it  did  not 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  9 

seem  to  me  that  the  most  notable  feature  of  what  I  used 
to  hear  from  Carrie  was  its  resemblance  to  Emerson's 
essays.  Her  manner  showed  a  like  individuality.  There 
was  a  subtle  difference  between  her  chance  joining  in  the 
group  of  girls  energetically  discussing  some  matters 
beyond  the  fire-wall  in  the  corridor,  and  that  of  the  other 
students.  Her  smile,  slight,  delicate,  and  somehow  sug- 
gestive of  gentle  indulgence,  was  ready,  but  fleeting. 
She  carried  with  her  always  the  air  of  one  whose  interests 
were  radical  and  self-supporting.  I  used  to  notice  that 
we  always  seemed  to  have  been  an  episode  in  a  much 
more  comprehensive  experience  she  was  having  before 
we  appeared.  To  this  she  returned  with  satisfaction, 
but  without  ardor,  when  we  called  for  no  further  atten- 
tion. Most  of  us,  I  think,  never  got  within  the  in  closure 
of  her  deepest  experience,  and  few  of  us  felt  any  certainty 
that  we  had  ever  really  come  into  her  serious  interest  at 
all.  It  was  soon  rumored  that  Carrie  was  disappointed 
in  the  college,  that  she  found  too  many  of  us  lesson- 
learners,  instead  of  students,  that  she  supposed  we  would 
care  less  about  what  our  teachers  thought  of  our  recita- 
tions and  marked  them  for,  and  more  of  what  we  could 
get  out  of  study.  There  were  discussions  about  the  j  ustice 
of  this  characterization  of  Carrie's,  but  we  finally  decided 
that  our  temper  was  natural,  our  way  of  living  spon- 
taneous, and  likely  to  last.     We  heard,   too,  that  Carrie 


lo  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

was  very  delicate  and  obliged  to  husband  her  strength 
much  more  carefully  than  the  rest  of  us  did.  We  re- 
flected on  our  nightly  luncheons  of  potted  ham  and 
lady-cake,  our  neglect  of  the  dinner  hour  when  the  view 
from  Richmond  Hill  proved  more  than  ordinarily  at- 
tractive, our  satisfaction  in  wasting  good  hours  of  care- 
fully scheduled  time  to  make  up  for  them  by  breathless 
minutes  of  exhausting  concentration  of  mind  on  our  work, 
and  into  the  midst  of  our  satisfaction  at  our  own  coarser 
endurance  crept  a  feeling  of  awe  of  Carrie.  What  was 
the  law  of  the  world  where  she  dwelt  apart?  What 
were  its  rewards?  Her  companionships  were  after  the 
same  remote  sort.  The  common  ground  was  not  that  of 
conviction,  nor  of  cheap  enthusiasm,  but  of  the  fine 
essence  of  character.  Yet  it  was  not  a  thin,  poor,  nor 
gossamer  substance.  For  her  insight  was  not  concerned 
with  mere  spectacle.  Under  the  shows  of  things  she 
sought  for  the  soul  and  for  the  permanent  principle.  She 
had  a  fine  scorn  for  the  petty,  the  shifty,  and  the  devious. 
The  innocent  mummery  in  some  of  our  social  forms  had 
no  spell  to  bind  her  glancing  fancy  or  her  practical 
sagacity.  It  was  clear  to  the  least  observant  of  us  that  she 
drew  from  other  sources  of  supply  than  ours,  and  judged 
by  other  standards,  and  was  impressed  by  other  values. 
But  we  had  hardly  suspected  all  this  and  begun  to 
concern  ourselves  with  what  it  might  portend  when  we 
learned   part   of   Carrie's  story — only  in  time  to  realize 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  ii 

dimly  what  it  must  have  meant  to  her  that  her  daily  life 
was  lived  in  the  very  shadow  of  death.  Small  wonder  that 
she  had  larger  store  of  the  ideal  than  we.  Her  appeal  to 
the  absolute  was  in  the  nature  of  things  more  direct  than 
ours,  her  relation  to  it  more  intimate.  We  dared  question 
whether  her  limpid,  attentive  glance  had  gained  any  of 
its  gentle,  humorous  persistence  from  looking  death  in 
the  face,  and  from  bearing  with  pain.  Was  her  generous 
scorn  the  revolt  of  a  strong  spirit  ?  We  began  to  see  how 
her  difference  from  us  had  arisen.  Her  freedom  in  bonds 
was  a  spiritual  criticism  on  our  cheery  delusion  of 
the  incomplete  as  the  infinite.  What  her  relation  to  us 
was,  some  of  us,  and  those,  perhaps,  who  owed  her 
most,  could  never  know.  Spiritually,  she  dwelt  apart, 
and  when  one  day  we  learned  that  she  had  left  college, 
we  wondered  whether  we  had  helped  or  hindered,  jarred 
or  helped  to  harmony  the  fine-drawn  chords  of  that 
experience  so  exceptional  in  the  midst  of  our  strenuous 
self -expansion.  We  did  not  forget  her.  She  had  made 
herself  a  part  of  our  history  at  its  very  sources,  and  we 
always  felt  that  in  losing  her  we  had  lost  possibilities  of 
indefinite  and  always  interesting  importance.  Some- 
times, with  a  reminiscent  smile  at  our  crudeuess  and 
callowness,  we  have  wondered  whether  a  gracious  blind- 
ness withheld  her  keenest  inquiry,  or  whether  the  urgent 
claims  of  her  short,  full  life  already  asserted  themselves. 

Mary  Augusta  Jordan. 


^be  l?ear0  in  aambrt^Qe. 


HE  fall  of  1879  will  always  be  full  of  pleasant  memo- 

ries  to  those  who  then  formed  the  parish  of  the 

North  Avenue  Congregational  Church  of  Cambridge. 
They  had  called  as  their  pastor  the  Rev.  Charles  F. 
Thwing,  and  his  acceptance  of  the  call  had  given  the 
most  complete  satisfaction. 

The  ordination  and  installation  services  took  place 
on  September  25th,  1879,  and  a  short  time  before  that 
event,  the  young  minister  was  united  in  marriage  to  Miss 
Carrie  Frances  Butler,  a  native  of  the  same  town  as  him- 
self. It  was  an  ideal  union  based  upon  the  true  love  that 
only  congenial  souls  can  feel.  She  was  especially  fitted 
for  the  position  she  was  to  occupy,  not  only  by  intellec- 
tual abilities  which  were  of  the  highest  order,  but  also  by 
the  Christian  graces  that  always  adorn  a  consecrated  life. 

Not  wishing  at  once  to  assume  the  cares  of  house- 
keeping, Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thwing  engaged  board  in  the 
parish.  Three  homes  in  the  parish  successively  opened 
their  doors  to  receive  them.  In  one  of  them,  in  October, 
1880,  their  eldest  daughter,  Mary,  was  bom.     In  the  first 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  13 

year  of  her  babyhood  they  removed  to  their  third  home. 
After  spending  a  few  happy  months  there,  they  began 
housekeeping  in  a  house  on  Arlington  Street,  Cam- 
bridge, purchased  for  them  by  the  father  of  Mrs.  Thwing. 
There  they  formed  what  was  ever  known  among  the 
parish  as  an  ideal  home. 

Mrs.  Thwing  entered  with  enthusiasm  into  all  the 
plans  of  the  new  pastor  for  work  among  his  people. 
With  simple  dignity  and  a  gracious  word  for  all,  she  soon 
gained  a  warm  place  in  their  hearts.  This  love  of  the 
people  was  fully  reciprocated  by  her,  and  she  loved  to 
visit  them  in  their  homes,  especially  when  in  sickness  or 
trouble.  These  tender  relations  continued  throughout 
the  seven  beautiful  years  of  her  Cambridge  life. 

She  was  greatly  interested  in  the  temperance  reform 
and  joined  the  Cambridge  Union  soon  after  making  her 
home  in  that  city.  In  September,  1880,  she  became  its 
President,  and  proved  herself  such  an  efl&cient  ofl&cer, 
that,  as  one  of  its  members  expressed  it,  her  coming 
among  them  was  indeed  a  "Godsend." 

In  March,  1882,  she  made  an  eloquent  plea  before 
the  Board  of  Aldermen  at  the  City  Hall,  against  grant- 
ing license  for  the  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  in  any  part 
of  Cambridge,  especially  in  Ward  Five,  where  she 
resided.  Such  was  her  interest  in  temperance  instruc- 
tion for  children,  that  in  compliance  with  the  request  of 


14  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

the  Superintendent  of  Public  Schools,  she  addressed  the 
teachers  upon  that  subject,  in  the  City  Hall,  on  the 
afternoon  of  February  25th,  1884.  Other  addresses 
followed,  which  were  favorably  received.  At  their  close 
the  Superintendent  said  that  hereafter  teachers  would  be 
required  to  give  the  instruction  so  urgently  called  for. 

The  W.  C.  T.  U.  were  permitted  to  furnish  the 
books  required,  and  the  Cambridge  Union,  of  which  Mrs. 
Thwing  was  president,  had  the  pleasure  of  furnishing  the 
books  for  Wards  One  and  Five. 

This  cordial  endorsement  of  her  work  was  a  great 
encouragement  to  her.  Her  modest  self-possession  well 
fitted  her  to  speak  in  public,  and  she  was  never  at  a  loss 
to  express  herself  clearly  upon  any  subject. 

In  company  with  a  lady  of  the  parish  who  was  ever 
ready  to  assist  her  in  any  good  work,  Mrs.  Thwing  dis- 
tributed votes  at  the  Cambridge  polls  in  the  interest  of 
temperance.  Surely  in  this  cause,  so  dear  to  her  heart, 
she  was  indeed  a  blessing  to  the  city  of  which  she  grew 
so  fond  as  the  years  went  on. 

She  soon  found  plenty  of  work  in  the  parish  which 
she  was  only  kept  from  doing  to  the  utmost  by  want  of 
physical  strength.  After  the  birth  of  her  little  one  she 
was  naturally  interested  in  all  the  problems  of  mother- 
hood, and  she  reorganized,  in  the  church,  a  "Mothers' 
Meeting,"  which  had  fallen  into  neglect. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  15 

In  an  informal  way,  the  topics  which  are  so  inter- 
esting to  mothers,  were  discussed.  Many  who  had  the 
privilege  of  attending  those  meetings,  still  recall  Mrs. 
Thwing's  helpful  talks  there,  and  the  bright  way  in 
which  she  related  some  of  her  own  experiences. 

It  was  found  that  owing  to  home  cares  and  outside 
engagements,  the  ladies  of  the  parish  could  not  sustain, 
with  success,  two  distinct  meetings.  On  this  account  the 
Mothers'  Meeting  was  merged,  after  a  while,  in  the 
I/adies'  Prayer  Meeting,  which,  of  course,  included 
others  besides  the  mothers  of  the  parish. 

These  meetings  were  fairly  attended  and  were  very 
interesting,  especially  those  in  which  Mrs.  Thwing  took 
part.  We  were  always  sure  to  receive  from  her  a  clear 
interpretation  of  the  passage  of  Scripture  we  were  con- 
sidering. Her  mind  seemed  to  grasp  every  phase  of 
the  subject,  and  her  terse  words  often  flashed  a  new 
light  upon  what  had  before  seemed  obscure.  As  one  of 
her  friends  remarked,  "a  few  words  from  her  meant 
so  much." 

Her  heart  was  with  the  Sewing  Circle  and  she  was 
present  at  the  meetings  whenever  possible.  She  had  to 
be  excused  from  much  active  work  there,  as  she  was 
never  physically  strong,  and  the  ladies  were  glad  to  have 
her  reserve  her  strength  for  lines  of  work  that  were 
fully  as  helpful  to  the  church. 


i6  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

The  love  and  appreciation  of  the  Sewing  Circle  was 
shown  by  the  gift  to  Mrs.  Thwing  of  a  silk  quilt,  each 
lady  furnishing  the  material  and  making  a  block  for  its 
completion.  The  time  of  presenting  the  gift  was  oppor- 
tune, for  it  was  given  her  when  suffering  from  an  attack 
of  illness.  She  assured  one  of  the  ladies  that  it  gave  her 
no  end  of  diversion  to  look  it  over,  while  convalescing, 
and  to  speculate  upon  whose  hand  made  each  particular 
block.  Very  soon  after  coming  to  the  parish  Mrs. 
Thwing  took  an  active  interest  in  the  Sunday-school 
and  became  the  teacher  there  of  a  class  of  young  ladies. 
Mrs.  Frank  Foxcroft,  who  was  principal  of  the  Primary 
Department  at  the  time,  had  long  felt  the  need  of  an 
Intermediate  Department.  She  thought  that  Primary 
scholars,  graduated  into  that  department,  would  receive 
instruction  there  which  would  better  fit  them  for  enter- 
ing the  main  school. 

Mrs.  Thwing  fully  shared  in  this  belief,  and  took 
such  active  measures  that  an  Intermediate  Department 
was  successfully  organized  in  the  fall  of  the  year  1884. 

She  at  once  assumed  the  duties  of  principal,  and 
although  it  was  an  extra  strain  upon  her  limited  strength, 
she  loved  the  work  more  and  more  as  the  time  passed. 

Before  going  abroad  with  her  husband,  in  1885,  she 
was  careful  to  provide  a  substitute,  so  that  the  work  of 
the  department  might  be  carried  on  in  her  absence.     She 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  17 

remembered  "the  dear  boys  and  girls,"  as  she  was  wont 
to  call  them,  by  sending  them  messages,  and  sometimes 
a  letter,  to  be  read  to  them  in  the  Sunday-school.  This 
kind  thought  of  them  was  keenly  appreciated  by  her 
charge,  and  they  gave  her  a  royal  welcome  on  her  return, 
A  special  programme  was  prepared  as  a  surprise,  and 
Mrs.  Thwing  was  deeply  touched  by  these  tokens  of 
affection. 

She  again  assumed  her  place  in  the  school,  but  after 
serving  them  only  one  Sunday  she  was  obliged,  by  ill 
health,  again  to  place  the  work  in  the  hands  of  her  sub- 
stitute. Before  her  entire  recovery  Mr.  Thwing  received 
and  accepted  a  call  to  the  Plymouth  Church,  Minneapolis, 
so  that  she  never  resumed  the  work.  The  Intermediate 
Department  always  retained  a  warm  place  in  her  heart, 
and  it  still  exists  a  power  for  good  in  the  North  Avenue 
Church. 

Conspicuous  among  the  objects  of  Christian  work 
which  Mrs.  Thwing  was  glad  to  aid,  was  the  missionary 
cause,  both  Home  and  Foreign.  In  the  first  year  of  her 
connection  with  the  church  she  became  a  member  of 
the  Auxiliary  of  the  Woman's  Board,  formed  by  a  union  of 
the  Shepherd  and  North  Avenue  Churches  of  Cambridge. 

That  she  felt  a  growing  interest  in  the  work  was 
shown  by  her  increased  subscriptions  from  year  to  year, 
and  by  consenting  to  serve  as  the  First  Directress  of  the 


i8  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Auxiliary.  The  meetings  were  held,  alternately,  in  each 
church,  and  it  was  Mrs.  Thwing's  duty  to  take  charge  of 
those  held  in  her  own  church. 

She  made  her  little  daughter,  Mary,  a  member  of  the 
Auxiliary  at  the  age  of  twenty  months,  and  she  became 
herself  a  Life  Member  of  the  Woman's  Board.  That  the 
daughter  might  share  equally  with  her  mother  in  this 
honor,  the  Sunday-school  made  Mary  also  a  Life 
Member.  Her  love  for  this  cause  never  ceased,  and  one 
of  her  bequests  was  the  sum  of  a  thousand  dollars  to 
this  Board. 

While  the  Foreign  work  appealed  thus  largely  to 
her  sympathies,  Mrs.  Thwing  was  none  the  less  interested 
in  Home  Missions.  The  Woman's  Home  Missionary 
Association,  to  which  the  Sewing  Circle  of  the  North 
Avenue  Church  became  an  Auxiliary,  shared  equally  in 
her  interest  with  that  of  the  Woman's  Board.  She  was 
glad  to  assist  in  its  work,  both  by  becoming  one  of  its 
officers,  and  by  the  contribution  of  literary  articles.  One 
of  these  papers  upon  Missions  in  New  Mexico  was 
thought  so  opportune  that  it  was  printed  as  a  tract  by 
the  Association  and  sent  forth  for  wide  circulation. 
She  was  Vice-President  of  the  Association  from  1882  to 
1889,  and  the  report  for  1883  has  this  item  : 

"Mrs.  Thwing,  of  Cambridge,  made  a  special  plea 
for  an  enlarged  treasury,   in  view  of  the  great  demand 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  19 

for  schools  and  missionaries  among  the  ignorant  of 
our  land." 

At  the  Third  Annual  Meeting  of  the  Woman's  Home 
Missionary  Association,  in  November,  1883,  the  "Work 
at  Home' '  for  that  year  gives  the  following  extract  from 
her  public  address : 

"Mrs.  Charles  F.  Thwing,  of  Cambridge,  followed 
Miss  Wakefield  with  what  she  said  might  be  called  an 
ungracious  message,  and  yet  she  thought  it  ought  not  to 
be  so  called.  The  sacrifice  which  giving  involves,  is 
almost  the  only  one  now  left  to  us  as  Christians,  and  we 
ought  to  hold  on  to  that  with  tremendous  energy.  We 
must  regard  this  money  that  we  give,  not  as  so  many 
dollars  and  cents,  but  as  the  embodiment  of  so  much 
moral  power.  It  has  mouths  to  speak,  it  has  feet  to  run, 
it  has  hands  to  work;  shall  this  be  given  to  self  or  to  Christ.? 

"The  opportunities  which  are  now  open  to  us  become 
responsibilities,  and  responsibilities  which  must  be  imme- 
diately assumed.  What  is  done  must  be  done  quickly; 
a  few  years  will  decide  whether  our  country  shall  be 
Christ's,  or  Anti-Christ's.  This  is  a  personal  question, 
a  question  which  every  one  of  us  must  answer. ' ' 

This  forceful  appeal  was  listened  to  with  great  in- 
terest, and  the  ladies  of  her  own  church  who  were 
present,  felt  a  pardonable  pride  in  the  able  manner  with 
which  their  pastor's  wife  handled  her  subject. 


20  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Without  neglecting,  as  we  have  seen,  any  of  these 
lines  of  Christian  service,  Mrs.  Thwing  proved  herself  a 
most  diligent  woman  from  the  fact  that  she  accomplished 
so  much  literary  work.  For  this  she  was  especially  fitted 
by  her  natural  tastes  and  by  her  college  training. 

She  was  the  author  of  six  articles  which  appeared  in 
the  Boston  Journal  upon  the  different  texts  or  versions 
of  Scripture  from  which  scholars,  at  that  time,  were 
making  their  revision  of  the  translation.  These  articles 
were  complete  and  scholarly,  showing  careful  study  and 
deep  research. 

It  was  during  her  residence  in  Cambridge,  that  Mrs, 
Thwing  assisted  her  father,  Mr.  Francis  Gould  Butler, 
in  writing  the  history  of  Farmington,  Maine.  Its  excel- 
lence as  a  local  history  is  well  known,  and  the  help  she 
thus  gave  her  father  was  to  her  a  labor  of  love. 

She  was  ever  interested  in  the  literary  subjects  which 
occupied  her  husband.  It  was  during  his  pastorate  in 
Cambridge  that  they,  together,  prepared  the  volume  en- 
titled, "The  Family— An  Historical  and  Social  Study." 
She  also  wrote  editorials  for  the  Golden  Rule  on  many 
different  subjects.  That  some  of  these  were  educational, 
goes  without  saying,  for  in  educational  matters  she  took 
a  lively  interest.  In  addition  to  her  parish  calls  she 
often  visited  the  public  schools  and  sometimes  gave  talks 
to  the  children. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  21 

In  whatever  plans  were  made  for  the  young  people, 
she  took  a  genuine  interest,  and  those  who  were  then 
boys  and  girls  remember  her  with  affection. 

During  the  last  part  of  Mrs,  Th wing's  stay  in  Cam- 
bridge a  cooking  school  was  established  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union. 
She  was  greatly  interested  in  this  and  entered  into  the 
work  with  zeal.  The  school  was  opened  in  that  part  of 
Cambridge  known  as  "Dublin. ' '  Its  aim  was  to  teach  the 
women  of  that  locality  how  to  prepare  better  food  for 
their  families.  This  work  among  such  a  rough  people 
proved  too  exacting,  and  Mrs.  Thwing  was  obliged,  ere 
long,  to  give  up  her  share  of  the  labor  into  other  hands. 

Although  she  was  not  physically  able  to  do  all  she 
wished,  she  was  always  ready  with  words  of  kindness 
and  sympathy.  In  such  interviews  she  had  the  courage 
of  her  convictions,  and  was  always  just  in  her  decisions 
in  regard  to  right  and  wrong.  One  of  her  most  intimate 
friends  writes:  "She  was  so  true  to  herself  that  even  in 
her  love  and  sympathy  for  her  best  friends  she  would  not 
sacrifice  one  whit  of  the  truth. ' '  Her  personality  was 
very  strong  and  it  was  her  great  charm,  but  back  of 
all  this  was  a  character  so  well  balanced,  a  brain 
so  active,  and  a  heart  so  true,  that  nothing  could 
unhinge  her. 


22  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

To  this  friend  Mrs.  Thwing  was  especially  helpful, 
and  she  testified  that  ever  since  their  association  in  Cam- 
bridge she  has  always  written  to  her  "for  help  over  the 
hard  places." 

When  his  people  heard  of  Mr.  Thwing's  decision  to 
accept  his  call  to  Plymouth  Church,  Minneapolis,  there 
was  universal  sorrow  among  them.  It  was  hard  to  lose 
one  whose  ministry  had  been  so  acceptable,  and  so  fruit- 
ful of  good  results.  It  was  also  hard  to  give  up  to 
another  parish,  one  who  had  so  endeared  herself  as  the 
pastor's  co-worker. 

Previous  to  entering  their  new  field  of  work, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thwing  spent  a  few  weeks  at  her  father's 
home  in  Farmington,  Maine.  While  there  the  house 
was  destroyed  by  a  fire  which  swept  away  a  large  part 
of  the  village.  Through  this  trying  time  Mrs.  Thwing 
was  calm  and  self-reliant,  and  when  it  was  known  that 
the  house  must  bum,  she  worked  to  the  last  moment  in 
helping  to  save  their  valuables. 

When  the  time  came  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thwing's 
departure  to  Minneapolis,  a  goodly  number  of  their 
Cambridge  friends  went  to  the  station  in  Boston  to  see 
them  off  on  the  outgoing  train.  Without  any  of  them 
knowing  of  the  other's  intention,  each  of  these  friends 
brought  something  in  the  way  of  refreshment  for  the 
travelers.     The  seats  about  them  were  piled  high  with 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING,  23 

good  things,  and  they  were  deeply  touched  at  this 
expression  of  love  from  so  many  of  the  dear  people  whom 
they  were  leaving.  Mrs.  Thwing  seemed  to  take  away 
with  her  nothing  but  pleasant  memories  of  Cambridge. 

In  letters  to  her  friends  there  were  frequent  expres- 
sions of  her  great  love  for  the  old  home.  "We  were 
so  happy,"  she  writes,  "those  seven  years,  and  we  are 
so  happy  now,  in  all  the  friendships  there  formed." 

Another  time  she  writes,  "I  wonder  if  you  have  any 
idea  how  proud  I  am  of  the  continued  love  and  remem- 
brances of  my  Cambridge  friends. ' ' 

"The  dear  church  is  never  forgotten,  God  bless  it, 
and  all  that  love  and  labor  for  it." 

It  was  gratifying  to  her  Cambridge  friends  to  hear 

how  she  still  loved  them,  and  to  know  that  although, 

afterward,    she  formed  the  most   pleasant   associations, 

and  met  with  the  kindest  of  friends,  she  always  retained 

a  peculiar  fondness  for  the  city  and  church  to  which  she 

came  as  a  bride. 

Sarah  E.  Dawes. 


^be  IJeare  in  nDtnneapoUe. 


nN  the  fall  of  1886  Mrs.  Thwing  came  to  Minneapolis 
with  her  husband  as  he  entered  upon  his  duties  as 
pastor  of  Plymouth  Church.  She  took  up  her  share  of 
the  work  with  enthusiasm,  aiding  in  all  ways  that 
she  could. 

Her  keen,  bright,  cultivated  and  consecrated  intel- 
lect, good  judgment,  and  pleasant  ways  of  meeting  people 
fitted  her  to  be  a  leader  of  rare  power.  Plymouth  Church 
has  had,  in  all  its  history,  but  slight  experience  of  the 
blessing  of  a  pastor's  wife.  We  were  very  happy  in  the 
thought  of  having  such  an  one  come  among  us,  who 
could  help  to  fill  out  her  husband's  work  in  so  many 
waj's,  touching,  as  she  could,  lines  of  activity  for  which 
he  could  find  neither  time  nor  opportunity,  and  making 
friends  with  a  large  circle. 

One  of  the  crying  needs  of  the  church  at  that  stage 
of  its  history,  was  some  power  that  should  draw  its 
members  together  in  living  fellowship.  This  work,  the 
new  pastor  and  his  wife  set  themselves  earnestly  to  do. 
In  all  social  gatherings  she  was  a  power,  winning  all  by 
her  brightness  and  cordiality.  She  received  many  calls 
during  that  first  winter,  and  made  many,  and  somehow 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  25 

got  a  hold  on  people  who  had  been  slipping  out  of  the 
fold.  It  was  wonderful  how  she  and  her  husband  man- 
aged to  remember  the  names  and  faces  of  so  many  people, 
and  there  is  nothing  more  winning  to  the  ordinary  mortal 
than  the  compliment  of  being  remembered  from  a  mere 
introduction.  She  has  explained  that  this  seeming 
triumph  of  genius  was  really  the  genius  of  taking 
pains,  and  how  they  used  to  recall  to  each  other,  after 
a  social  gathering,  names,  and  faces,  and  dress,  and  try 
to  fix  some  peg  to  hang  a  memory  to. 

She  was  a  great  help  in  the  Women's  Meetings  of 
the  church,  attending  when  she  could,  and  speaking 
most  effectively  upon  occasion.  An  address  of  hers  at  a 
Union  Missionary  gathering  is  still  recalled,  when  she 
spoke  with  great  power  on  the  consecration  of  wealth  to 
the  Lord, 

She  aimed  to  keep  in  touch  with  all  the  work  of  the 
church,  rather  than  to  give  herself  to  any  one  branch, 
thinking  she  could  thus  best  aid  her  husband.  Her 
voice  was  often  heard  in  the  church  prayer-meeting,  and 
always  with  acceptance.  Such  gifts  of  mind  and  heart 
fitted  her  to  be  a  leader  in  the  church  and  community. 
Could  she  have  done  nothing  more,  it  was  much  to  have 
such  a  woman  stand  at  her  husband's  side  in  full  and 
beautiful  accord  with  him  and  his  work,  and  a  constant 
strength  and  inspiration  to  him. 


26  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Would  that  health  might  have  been  hers,  also.  That, 
coming  a  stranger  to  the  place,  she  could  have  made  a 
deep  impression  in  the  brief  months  that  it  was  given  to  her 
to  work,  proves  her  power.  For,  as  so  many  times  before 
in  her  life,  ill  health  blighted  her  hopes  and  ambitions. 
Even  what  she  was  able  to  do,  was  done  in  weariness  and 
painfulness.  After  a  few  months  her  health  broke 
down  completely,  and  during  almost  the  remainder  of  her 
husband's  residence  in  Minneapolis,  she  was  either  a 
shut-in  invalid  at  home,  or  away  seeking  health. 

To  a  comparatively  few  was  it  given  to  know  her 

large  gifts  and  loving  heart.     Such  a  life  carries  with  it 

a  special  plea  for  immortality.     It  was  planned  on  too 

large  a  scale  to  come  to  its  best  amid  the  limitations  of 

this  life.     The  fine  intellect  that  was  always  cramped  and 

hindered  by  a  weak  and  suffering  body,  must  somewhere 

be  able  to  work  out  its  thoughts  freely  and  fully.     For 

her,  we  think  of  death  as  but  a  portal  into  larger  life. 

There,  all  beautiful  promise  of  mind  and  soul  shall  have 

its    fruition,    and  we    doubt  not    that  in    the    "many 

mansions"    she  finds  opportunity   to   use  all  gifts  and 

graces  of  mind  and  character  among  those  who  "serve 

Him." 

Mary  T.  Hai,e. 


JL\)c  l?ear6  in  Clevelant), 


m 


HEN,  in  1890,  the  Western  Reserve  University 
welcomed  a  new  President,  Cleveland  Vassar 
Alumnae  were  glad  to  find  in  the  wife  of  President 
Thwing  a  former  college  acquaintance  and  friend. 
Having  been  introduced  in  the  winter  of  1877,  in  Boston, 
to  Carrie  Butler,  I  was  glad  to  find,  in  1890,  that  the 
person  whom  I  had  always  remembered  for  her  bright 
and  cordial  manners,  was  Mrs,  Thwing,  and  that  she  was 
now  one  of  our  Cleveland  college  women.  In  the  four- 
teen years  that  had  elapsed  since  her  college  days,  she 
had  lost  none  of  her  college  enthusiasm  or  ideals,  and 
brought  to  her  Cleveland  life  singularly  strong  college 
spirit  and  interest.  She  entered  heart  and  soul  into  her 
husband's  work  as  the  President  of  a  large  and  growing 
university.  She  had  a  rare  appreciation  of  all  the 
elements  that  tend  to  strengthen  the  foundation  and 
growth  of  the  different  departments  of  a  university. 
Where  some  women  are  narrow  and  contracted  in  their 
views  and,  therefore,  in  the  advice  they  give,  she  was 
always  broad,  with  a  very  just  estimate  of  relative  values. 


28  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

A  university  founded  in  a  city  needs  to  be  popular  with 
the  home  institutions,  if  it  is  to  have  as  large  a  field  for 
usefulness  as  is  possible.  Mrs.  Thwing  joined  with  her 
husband  in  appreciating  all  the  elements  of  strength  in  a 
city  like  Cleveland,  and  always  delighted  to  honor  and 
commend  every  influence  that  tended  toward  helping  and 
supporting  the  university.  She  had  rare  judgment,  rare 
common  sense,  rare  business  sagacity,  rare  and  sterling 
integrity.  From  the  first  all  persons  were  her  friends, 
because  she  had  the  power  of  keeping  friends.  In  true 
friendship  one  never  measures  what  is  given  and  taken, 
and  delights  only  in  giving.  When  one  who  knew  Mrs. 
Thwing  well  thinks  of  her,  one  must  always  accord  to 
her  the  highest  honor  in  friendship,  that  of  having  been 
a  true  friend. 

In  her  relations  to  the  students  of  the  university, 
she  at  once  took  an  active  part.  With  her  hu.sband, 
she  met  the  students  at  various  receptions  and  ban- 
quets and  was  always  a  bright  and  ready  hostess. 
She  took  particular  interest  in  each  and  every  student, 
gathering  and  keeping  in  her  mind  various  incidents  of 
college  history  peculiar  to  each.  When  a  student  had 
graduated  and  gone,  if  the  name  was  mentioned  by  pro- 
fessor or  instructor,  there  would  come  a  ready  response 
with  some  kindly  anecdote,  showing  the  clear  and  definite 
impression    that  each    one   had    left   with    her.     Most 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  29 

of  us  realize,  I  think,  that  such  memory  and  interest 
come  only  from  rare,  unselfish  appreciation  and  a  per- 
sonal sense  of  responsibility. 

One  never  approached  Mrs.  Thwing  with  the  case  of 
an  individual  student  who  needed  help,  in  money  or 
other  ways,  without  being  sure  of  a  ready  and  responsive 
listener  and  a  willing  helper.  The  rare  opportunities  for 
helping  which  appeal  to  the  President's  family  in  univer- 
sity matters,  were  never  lightly  regarded  by  Mrs.  Thwing 
or  considered  as  tiresome  and  uninteresting.  She  realized 
fully  that  each  individual  case  was  as  important  to  the 
person  concerned  as  if  there  were  not  hundreds  of  just 
such  cases,  and  always  gave  untiring  interest,  sympathy 
and  help.  Universities  are  often  spoken  of  as  corpora- 
tions, as  something  devoid  of  a  soul.  That  was  not 
Mrs.  Thwing' s  conception  of  a  university,  and  as  far  as 
possible  she  gave  to  all  that  came  within  her  reach  the 
touch  of  life  that  institutions  as  well  as  individuals  need. 

Mrs.  Thwing  met  the  women  of  her  own  Col- 
lege, Vassar,  soon  after  coming  to  the  city,  when,  at 
her  request,  a  reception  was  given  for  them  at  the 
College  for  Women.  All  were  delighted  with  her  cordial 
and  hearty  interest  in  all  college  questions.  She  was,  a 
little  later,  a  guest  at  a  Vassar  dinner  at  the  Hollenden, 
and  I  remember  hearing  her  say  as  we  left  the  hotel, 
'  'Are  not  college  reunions  delightful  ?  ' ' 


30  CARRIE  F,  BUTLER  THWING. 

Although  doing  so  much,  in  time,  money  and 
thought,  for  her  husband's  university,  she  never  forgot 
her  allegiance  to  the  numerous  activities  in  which  Vassar 
women  manifest  their  loyalty.  She  was  a  member  of 
the  Vassar  Students'  Aid  Society  and  was  especially 
interested  in  the  completion  of  the  Maria  Mitchell 
Endowment  Fund.  She  never  ceased  to  value  the  sound 
training  given  to  Vassar  women  in  the  early  days  of  that 
college  under  President  Raymond,  and  to  hope  for  all 
college  women  equally  strong  training.  By  her  influence 
in  Western  Reserve  University  she  did  much  to  make 
possible  for  women  the  highest  and  best  culture. 

I  am  glad  to  remember  Mrs.  Thwing  as  a  Vassar 
woman,  and  to  think  that  a  mind  peculiarly  fair  and  just 
in  its  estimates,  had  its  college  training  under  Vassar' s 
roof. 

Two  children  were  born  to  Mrs.  Thwing  in  Cleve- 
land— one  a  son,  Francis  Butler  Thwing,  born  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1 89 1,  the  other  a  daughter,  Apphia,  born  in 
August,  1892.  If  one  thought  he  had  sounded  the 
depths  of  her  nature  in  considering  and  discussing  with 
her  educational  interests,  he  had  only  to  talk  with  her 
concerning  children  and  home  life  to  see  the  height 
and  breadth  and  depth  of  her  heart  and  mind.  Here 
again,  in  spite  of  a  nature  naturally  impulsive  and  ex- 
ceedingly easily  moved,  she  was  sound  and  true  in  her 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  31 

estimates,  broad  in  her  views,  tender  and  loyal  in  her 
considerations  of  children's  interests  and  rights.  She  was 
eminently  philosophical  and  reasonable,  and  considerate 
of  every  phase  of  child  study.  She  was,  with  her  hus- 
band, one  of  the  founders  of  the  Froebel  School  in 
Cleveland,  a  school  which  brings  as  fine  teaching,  pro- 
portionately, into  the  kindergarten  and  primary,  as  one 
usually  finds  in  the  highest  departments  of  universities. 

Her  ready  answer,  when  asked  to  join  the  Daughters 
of  the  American  Revolution,  because  it  gave  such  an 
interest  in  one's  ancestors,  was,  "But  I  am  much  more 
interested   in   my   descendants  than   in  my  ancestors." 

I  happened  to  discuss  corporal  punishment  with  her 
one  day.  She  did  not  believe  in  it  even  for  small 
children,  but  did  believe  in  reasoning,  as  with  older 
persons,  and  that  children  were  as  capable  of  being 
reasoned  with  as  their  elders.  This  she  always  did, 
and  in  her  children's  minds  must  remain  a  distinct 
image  of  one  who  never  coerced,  who  encouraged  and 
waited  for  the  fulfillment  of  her  expectations  in  their 
conduct. 

All  the  interests  of  her  children,  whether  play  or 
work,  were  her  own  interests.  When  her  daughter 
Mary,  now  a  Sophomore  in  college,  entered  the  Central 
High  School  in  this  city,  her  mother  went  with  her  and 
spent   the   entire   morning  in  seeing  her  registered  and 


32  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

noting  classifications,  grades  and  systems  with  as  much 
interest  as  if  personally  connected  with  the  institution. 
Such  intelligent  appreciation  and  sympathy  in  educational 
work  is  a  very  pleasant  sight  in  this  century  of  hurry, 
bustle  and  carelessness  about  personal  obligations.  I 
mention  this  one  incident  because  it  was  so  characteristic 
of  Mrs.  Thwing's  appreciation  of  her  children's  life. 

A  group  of  six  or  seven  ladies  in  Cleveland  formed, 
four  years  ago,  a  Mothers'  Club.  Mrs.  Thwing  took  a 
great  interest  in  their  meetings  and  talks  and  contributed, 
I  am  told,  most  valuable  suggestions  and  experiences. 
The  members  of  this  club  were  most  sincerely  attached 
to  one  another.  Their  common  interest  in  children 
and  child  questions  and  problems  drew  them  close 
together. 

Although  Mrs.  Thwing's  residence  in  Cleveland 
covered  the  short  period  of  eight  years,  she  had  made  her 
influence  felt  in  many  more  directions  than  those  simply 
of  her  home,  church  and  university  circles. 

When  any  question  of  public  interest  arose  in  the 
city,  it  always  found  a  sympathetic  and  respectful  sup- 
porter in  Mrs.  Thwing.  She  had  a  true  New  England 
conception  of  the  close  relation  which  all  civic  interests 
should  hold  to  the  various  households  and  individuals  of 
the  city.  When  the  law  was  passed  in  Columbus  giving 
women  in  Ohio  the  privilege  of  voting  on  all  matters  per- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  33 

taining  to  schools,  the  women  of  Cleveland  gave  a 
banquet  in  honor  of  the  senators  and  legislators  from 
Cleveland  who  had  supported  the  law.  Among  the  most 
prominent  speakers  of  Cleveland,  Mrs.  Thwing  responded 
to  a  toast  and  won  hosts  of  friends  by  her  clear  and 
eloquent  account  of  the  workings  of  such  a  system  in 
Boston,  and  the  statement  of  her  belief  in  the  value  of 
the  expressed  intelligence  of  women  in  school  matters. 
Any  one  who  saw  her  as  she  spoke  that  night  will  always 
remember  the  dignity  and  power  with  which  she  stated 
her  thoughts,  and  the  charm  of  her  manner  in  speaking. 

In  church  affiliations,  she  was  a  member  and  inter- 
ested worker  in  the  Euclid  Avenue  Congregational 
Church.  She  was  always  ready  to  help  any  poor  and 
struggling  church,  and  having  been  asked  to  give 
money  to  aid  in  starting  a  new  Congregational 
church,  before  promising  her  offering,  drove  to  the 
locality,  examined  the  need  in  that  community  of 
another  church,  and  then  gave  willingly  the  sum  desired. 
This  was  a  fair  example  of  a  characteristic  trait.  She 
was  generous,  but  always  where  she  thought  her 
generosity  would  not  be  wasted. 

She  had  a  happy  way  of  greeting  members  that 
assemble  at  receptions  given  by  the  university.  Singu- 
larly quick  in  repartee,  there  was  always  a  ready  answer 
for  each  new  comer  in  the  long  line  of  guests.     Few 


34  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

women  have  the  power  to  interest  themselves  in  so  many; 
few  women,  who  have  the  power,  have  the  inclination  to 
exert  it.  For  interest,  genuine  kindly  interest  in 
others'  occupations  and  welfare  requires  true  unselfish- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  one  manifesting  it. 

Sincerity  and  unselfishness  were  prominent  traits  in 
Mrs.  Thwing's  character.  She  looked  for  the  best  in 
each;  she  had  the  magnetic  power  which  brings  the  best 
in  each  to  the  surface.  Possessed  of  a  great  sense  of 
humor,  she  always  saw  the  weakness  of  human  nature, 
but  with  no  unpleasant  feeling.  She  was  good  company 
in  a  rare  sense,  because  she  loved  humanity  in  itself. 
She  manifested  in  herself  the  best  elements  of  New 
England  ancestry  and  training,  united  with  the  kindness 
and  tolerance  that  broaden  any  nature. 

She  had  fine  discrimination  in  literature,  and  this 
was  always  apparent  in  her  conversation. 

Her  home  shows  the  nature  of  the  one  who  planned 
and  furnished  it.  In  it  are  reflected  her  brightness  and 
taste.  She  shaped  her  life  on  high  and  lofty  ideals,  her 
thoughts  were  noble,  her  actions  sincere  and  honorable. 
Such  a  life,  whether  short  or  long  in  years,  is  long  in  the 
beneficent  influence  which  it  leaves  in  family,  university, 
church  and  community. 

Emma  M.  Perkins. 


3ournal  of  a  ^our  in  jeurope. 
1885. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  37 


Edinburgh,  26  July,  1885. 

Events  have  been  so  crowded  and  impressions  so 
many  and  so  strange  that  it  is  difl&cult  to  recall  events  or 
analyze  impressions.  The  voyage,  begun  at  9 :30,  July  1 1 , 
and  finished  at  about  the  same  hour  July  2 1 ,  was  monoton- 
ous, and  yet  in  many  ways  it  was  all  we  could  have  asked. 
It  did  not  add  to  our  list  of  friends,  hardly  to  that  of 
acquaintances,  unless  I  except  a  very  remarkable  man, 
by  name,  plumber  by  trade,  trigomist  by  pro- 
fession. He  has  had  three  excellent  wives  whom  he 
tires  not  of  extolling,  and  they  together  with  his  feats 
in  plumbing  formed  the  staple  relaxation  of  the  voyage. 
He  is  a  type  of  a  self-made  man,  egotistic,  aggressive, 
self -poised,  yet  whole  hearted  and  generous.  He  might 
have  sat  for  Howells'  Silas  I^apham,  except  that  a  relig- 
ious faith  has  refined  certain  coarse  features  of  the  suc- 
cessful Colonel. 

Liverpool  we  found  smoky  and  dirty,  a  true  com- 
mercial city  which  was  more  honored  by  our  imme- 
diate departure  than  it  could  have  been  by  our  staying. 
We  fled  to  Chester.  And  what  shall  I  say  of  Chester  ? 
What  shall  I  not  say  of  Chester?  Of  her  delightful 
Queen  Hotel,  where  we  ate  our  strawberries  and  cream 
by  an  open  door  leading  out  into  a  charming  old-fashioned 


38  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

garden  with  marigolds  and  primroses;  what  of  her  quaint 
shops  and  streets,  her  queer  houses,  her  ancient  walls, 
her  grand  cathedral?  Our  first  view  was  obtained  by  a 
ride  perched  on  top  of  a  tram  car.  This  procedure  did 
not  bring  us  into  close  association  with  the  nobility  and 
gentry  but  accomplished  our  purpose  of  getting  an  idea 
of  the  town.  We  left  the  car  at  the  river  and  wandered 
about  the  castle  by  the  Dee,  then  up  into  the  town  and 
through  the  curious  rows  to  the  Cathedral.  Grand, 
grand  old  church,  a  fitting  temple  for  God  and  for  man's 
worship.  The  service  was  read  in  the  I^ady  Chapel  at 
half-past  five  and  we  stayed  and  bowed  with  the  wor- 
shipers assembled.  The  dreary  sing-song  monotone 
of  the  reader  and  the  responses  chanted  by  the  choir 
turned  into  mechanism  the  wonderful,  almost  inspired, 
words  of  the  service.  The  singing  of  the  general  con- 
fession seemed  almost  blasphemous.  But  in  the  vaulted 
arches  themselves  seemed  to  be  worship  without  words. 
It  is  wonderful  to  me  how  men  of  that  rude  age  could  so 
make  stone  praise  God.  Infinity  and  aspiration!  No  one 
can  enter  and  not  feel  them. 

We  went  home.  It  seemed  a  little  primitive  to  take 
a  candle;  to  find  no  spring  bed.  But  we  were  in  a  con- 
dition to  declare  that  gas  and  spring  beds  were  vulgar 
modern  innovations.  I  am  not  sure  but  that  gas  would 
have  seemed  an  anachronism  after  such  an  afternoon. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  39 

An  early  rise,  an  early  breakfast  and  a  comfort- 
able cab,  and  half -past  eight  found  us  bowling  away 
towards  Hawarden  Castle,  the  home  of  Mr.  Gladstone, 
six  or  eight  miles  away  in  Flintshire,  Wales.  We 
found  the  same  beautiful,  level,  cultivated  country 
through  which  the  cars  brought  us  to  Chester.  Every- 
where the  eye  is  charmed  by  the  evident  thrift,  the  sub- 
stantial character  of  every  man-made  object,  be  it  cause- 
way or  church,  and  by  the  taste  and  beautj'  with  which 
everything  is  planned  and  decorated.  The  miles  of 
hawthorn  hedge,  interwoven  with  ivy,  roses  and  honey- 
suckle growing  wild,  were  a  charm  to  one  to  whom  all 
these  are  exotics.  The  Hawarden  estate  embraces  a 
territory  ten  miles  by  eight.  We  rode  a  mile  perhaps 
after  passing  the  gate  before  reaching  the  house.  Its 
grounds  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of  nature  and  could  hardly 
have  yielded  much  revenue.  The  mansion,  solid,  sub- 
stantial, like  everything  else,  was  yet  fine.  In  the  old 
Castle,  however,  we  found  our  richest  treat.  All  of 
Scott's  novels  came  trooping  before  my  mind  as  we 
explored  moat  and  drawbridge,  keep  and  battlement  and 
dungeon.  It  is  only  a  ruin,  but  singularly  picturesque, 
clothed  with  the  all-covering  ivy.  Our  conductor  was  a 
Welshman  ardently  attached  to  the  family.  With  pride 
he  showed  us  an  enormous  oak,  not  less  than  three  and 
one-half  feet  in  diameter  at  the  butt,  which  was  felled  by 


40  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

the  united  force  of  the  male  Gladstones:  "Master  Glad- 
stone, Master  William  Henry,  Master  Henry  Neville, 
Master  Stephen  E.  and  Master  somebody  else. "  "  Master 
Gladstone,"  he  said,  "has  given  up  the  estate  to  Master 
William  Henry,  who  is  his  heir,  and  best  of  all  Master 
William  Henry  has  an  heir  born  last  week."  The  old 
man's  joy  illustrated  the  strength  of  English  family 
pride.  Pointing  to  the  windows  of  Gladstone's  library  the 
guide  said:  "ten  thousand  volumes,  sir,  and  master  of 
every  one  of  them."  He  was  very  loquacious  as  he 
dilated  on  the  past  and  present  glories  of  the  place,  al- 
though we  understood  his  rapid  delivery  with  difficulty. 
Indeed,  the  first  days  we  were  in  England  we  doubted 
whether  we  understood  the  English  language  at  all.  We 
are  now  conceited  enough  to  believe  that  it  is  we  who 
speak  English  with  purity.  In  the  first  place  the  names 
of  many  common  objects  are  different.  Mews  for  stables, 
tariff  for  rate,  passage  for  ticket,  guard  for  conductor, 
luggage  van  for  baggage  car,  underdone  for  rare, — and 
many  more.  We  also  notice  that  each  class  of  persons 
seems  to  have  a  different  accent.  The  cabmen  speak 
differently  from  waiters,  the  waiters  from  shop-keepers, 
the  shop-keepers  from  railroad  men,  and  so  on  with  this 
remarkable  distinction,  the  higher  up  the  social  scale  we 
go  the  more  they  talk  like  Americans.  The  cabman  we 
had  at  Glasgow  we  simply  gave  up  trying  to  understand. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  41 

The  Scotch,  of  course,  have  quite  another  dialect.  The 
driver  who  took  us  through  the  Ivake  District  compli- 
mented me  by  saying  that  I  spoke  very  good  English, 
better  than  any  American  he  had  ever  seen,  and  he  should 
have  thought  me  to  be  an  English  lady! 

Getting  back  to  Chester  at  about  quarter-past  eleven, 
we  were  driven  at  once  to  the  Cathedral  where  we  had 
tickets  to  an  oratorio.  It  happened  to  be  the  triennial 
festival,  and  a  choir  of  three  hundred  voices  with  a  picked 
orchestra  performed  Gounod's  Redemption.  We  en- 
joyed it  intensely,  although  the  vast  spaces  of  the 
Cathedral  doubtless  aided  more  the  sentimental  than  the 
artistic  performance.  The  oratorio  loses,  in  comparison 
with  Handel's  Messiah,  in  the  substitution  of  weak  para- 
phrases for  the  grand  words  of  holy  writ.  The  recita- 
tive also  grew  monotonous.  As  I  look  back  upon  it,  I 
find  it  is  the  orchestral  rather  than  the  vocal  parts  which 
linger  in  my  memory,  while  with  the  Messiah  the  reverse 
is  the  case.  But  it  was  a  great  privilege.  We  took  lunch 
in  the  interval  of  the  oratorio,  and  it  was  half-past  three 
when  we  left  the  Cathedral  for  a  walk  round  the  walls  and 
a  visit  to  the  water  tower.  It  was  said  that  the  Bishop 
of  Chester  (Dr.  Stubbs)  does  not  approve  these  concerts 
in  the  Cathedral  and  departs  to  the  remotest  corner 
of  his  diocese  at  the  time  they  are  given.  Dean  Howson, 
however,  was  present. 


42  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

To  go  back  to  the  water  tower.  The  inevitable 
three-pence  opened  for  us  a  museum  which  contained  a 
strange  jumble  of  alligators'  skins  and  elephant's  teeth 
with  some  objects  of  real  interest.  In  the  dungeon  of 
this  tower  the  Earl  of  Derby's  daughters,  hostages  for 
Charles  I,  were  confined.  I^ooking  down  on  the  yard 
below  the  tower  were  the  remains  of  a  Roman  temple, 
of  which  the  pillars  had  been  dug  up  in  the  town  and 
brought  here  and  erected  in  what  is  believed  to  be  their 
original  positions.  The  Phoenix  tower,  between  the 
Cathedral  and  the  water  tower,  bears  this  inscription: 

"King  Charles  I.  stood  on  this  tower  and  saw  his 
army  defeated  at  Rowlin  Moor,  Sept.  24,  1645." 

Walking  round  the  walls  we  soon  came  to  the  river 
Dee  at  the  point  spanned  by  the  Grosvenor  bridge,  one  long, 
magnificent  arch,  the  finest  in  England.  Here  a  tram  car 
was  taken  and  brought  us  to  the  Queen's  just  in  time  to  get 
our  train  for  Windermere.  This  ride  through  Cheshire, 
I^ancashire  and  Westmoreland  was  a  constant  charm .  The 
country  seemed  like  one  vast  park.  The  miles  of  haw- 
thorn hedge  intergrown  with  wild  roses,  poppies,  honey- 
suckle and  daisies,  as  well  as  the  neat  stone  houses  and 
bams  covered  with  ivy  and  roses,  were  a  delight  to  the 
eye.     We  saw  only  peace  and  prosperity. 

The  little  we  have  traveled  on  English  railroads  leads 
to  the  conclusion  that  they  are  not  so  well  conducted  as  our 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  43 

own.  The  people  do  not  seem  to  understand  how  to  get  a 
train  off,  and  in  three  out  of  five  of  the  trips  we  have 
taken  the  trains  have  been  late.  From  Chester  they 
were  late  in  starting.  We  find  second  class  carriages 
very  good.  The  first  class  are  not  fine.  They  are  up- 
holstered in  broadcloth,  while  second  class  have  terry  or 
something  of  that  kind.  None  of  the  carriages  are  too 
neat  and  none  approach  the  comfort  of  our  common  car, 
much  less  that  of  the  Pullman.  The  system  of  carriages 
has  some  advantages  over  cars,  particularly  when  you 
have  a  compartment  alone  or  with  an  agreeable  com- 
panion. It  gives  one  a  helpless  feeling,  however,  to  be 
locked  in,  and  on  the  whole  I  prefer  the  American  system, 
especially  were  I  traveling  alone  should  I  desire  it. 

A  bus  ride  from  Windermere  brought  us  to  Bowness, 
a  mile  and  a  half  away,  and  the  Old  England  opened  its 
charmingly  hospitable  doors.  This  is  a  true  English 
inn,  plain  and  neat,  yet  thoroughly  homelike  and  com- 
fortable. Its  grounds  slope  to  Lake  Windermere,  and 
there  one  finds  numerous  pleasure  boats  for  rowing. 

We  were  now  in  the  Lake  District,  with  beauties  of 
art  and  nature  around  us,  with  associations  of  poetry  and 
romance  thronging  upon  us, — and  one  day  for  all.  I  think 
we  made  a  wise  choice.  In  the  morning  we  went  into 
the  little  village  church.  Like  all  village  churches  that 
we  have  passed,  it  is  a  low-bowed  massive  structure  with 


44  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

square  tower.  One  really  fine  window  from  Furness 
Abbey  adorns  it.  It  is  very  plain  to  see  what  a  powerful 
influence  the  church  wields  in  these  communities.  The 
church  is  the  central  object  in  every  town.  It  is  always 
ancient,  venerable  and  venerated.  Some  way  England 
strikes  us  as  a  more  Christian  country  than  America. 
Certainly  it  bears  the  marks  of  a  more  Christian  country. 
We  have  not  failed  to  find  a  Bible  in  every  room  we  have 
occupied.  In  several  places  Scripture  texts  have  adorned 
the  walls.  Tracts  and  sometimes  scrolls  are  in  the  rail- 
road stations.  But,  most  of  all,  the  church  seems  to  be 
the  pivotal  point  around  which  the  lives  of  these  towns 
move.  Notices  of  all  kinds  are  posted  in  the  vestibules. 
I  noticed  in  a  wee  church  at  Wythburn  a  notice  for  a 
meeting  for  licensing  the  sale  of  beer,  wine,  etc.  The 
question  has  occurred  to  me  are  there  not  many  disad- 
vantages connected  with  the  severance  of  church  and 
state  ?  The  perpetuation  of  the  church  and  of  church 
ordinances  with  us  depends  upon  the  liberality  of  the  few. 
We  can't  build  or  support  cathedrals  or  parish  schools. 

A  ride  on  the  steamer  from  Bowness  brought  us  to 
Ambleside  where  we  bargained  with  an  intelligent  young 
fellow  to  drive  us  to  Keswick  and  the  Falls  of  Lodore. 
The  region  through  which  we  passed  was  very  pretty. 
While  the  lakes  are  smaller  and  the  mountains  lower 
than  at  home,  we  were  obliged  to  confess  that  the  effect 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  45 

was  charming  and  beyond  our  anticipation.  The  moun- 
tains are  thrown  together  in  reckless  confusion,  seem- 
ingly piled  and  jumbled  without  design.  On  our  way  to 
Keswick  we  rode  under  the  "dark  brow  of  the  mighty 
Helvellyn."  Scott's  words  seem  to  fit  the  gloomy  tower- 
ing mountain  as  no  others  could.  We  skirted  the  little 
lakes  of  Grasmere,  Rydal,  and  Thirby  and  struck  the 
beautiful  Derwentwater  just  before  we  reached  Keswick. 
The  whole  ride  bristled  with  interesting  memories  or  asso- 
ciations. In  the  little  churchyard  at  Ambleside  lay  the 
mortal  of  Harriet  Martineau  and  of  Dr.  Arnold,  while 
just  beyond  were  the  Knoll  and  Fox  How,  the  houses 
made  immortal  as  their  residences.  Rydal  Mount,  the 
home  of  Wordsworth,  a  substantial  stone  house  with  well 
kept  grounds,  lay  just  bej'^ond.  In  the  churchyard  of  the 
little  village  at  Grasmere  we  found  the  grave  of  Words- 
worth, marked  by  a  plain  slate  slab  bearing  the  words, 

WiLWAM  Wordsworth, 
i«5o. 
Within  the  church  a  marble  tablet  to  the  memory  of 
the  great  poet  is  placed,  simple  and  elegant.     It  is  this: 

"A  true  philosopher  and  poet,  who,  by  the  special  gift  and 
calling  of  Almighty  God,  whether  he  discoursed  of  man  or  nature, 
failed  not  to  lift  up  the  heart  to  holy  things;  tired  not  of  maintain- 
ing the  cause  of  the  poor  and  simple,  and  so  in  perilous  times  was 
raised  up  to  be  a  chief  minister,  not  only  of  noblest  poesy,  but  of 
high  and  sacred  truth." 


46  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Upon  a  stone  marking  the  grave  of  one  of  his  little 
children  were  these  lines: 

"Six  months  to  six  years  added  he  remained 
Upon  this  sinful  earth  by  sin  ubstained. 
O  blessed  I^ord,  whose  mercy  thus  removed 
A  child,  whom  every  eye  that  looked  on  loved, 
Support  us,  teach  us  calmly  to  resign, 
What  we  possessed  and  now  is  wholly  thine." 

At  Wythburn  we  took  a  little  lunch  in  an  English 
bar  room,  and,  while  the  horse  was  resting,  went  into  a 
tiny  church,  said  to  be  one  of  the  smallest  in  the  king- 
dom, lyike  all  churches  it  was  venerable  and  solid, 
though  of  the  plainest  possible  description.  To  the 
readers  of  Wordsworth  it  is  known  as  the  "Wee,  modest 
house  of  prayer. ' ' 

A  little  thing  interested  me  very  much  as  showing 
the  regard  of  even  the  common  people  of  England  for 
historical  associations.  The  driver  pointed  out  a  consid- 
erable heap  of  stones  which  he  said  was  believed  to  mark 
the  grave  of  one  of  the  Cumberland  Kings  before  the 
consolidation  of  the  counties.  The  pile  of  stones  had 
lain  there  for  centuries,  and  yet  miles  of  stone  wall  had 
been  built  about  it  without  one  of  these  tributes  to  the 
memory  of  that  ancient  monarch  being  disturbed. 

Lodore  we  reached  by  driving  through  Keswick 
round  the  other  side  of  Derwent water,  by  a  romantic  road 
underneath  wild  overhanging  crags.     I^ow  water  robbed 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  47 

the  falls  of  its  grandeur,  but  it  was  still  beautiful,  flowing 
down  its  hundred  feet  of  rock- worn  path.  It  must  justify- 
in  its  full  glory  every  one  of  Southey's  adjectives. 

A  plain,  rather  too  plain,  house  awaited  us,  and  after 
tea  we  sallied  out  to  find  Southey's  home  and  grave. 
We  plainly  see  that  we  are  in  a  northern  latitude  by  the 
long  twilight.  We  can  read  in  the  house  at  nine  o'clock. 
The  Crosthwaite  Parish  church  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
town  was  the  first  object  of  our  pilgrimage.  This  vener- 
able church  belonged  to  a  very  early  date,  although  its 
two  sides  show  marked  differences  in  architecture  and 
probably  belong  to  different  periods.  Within  its  walls 
lies  a  marble  effigy  of  the  poet,  while  a  plain  sarcophagus 
marks  his  grave  in  the  churchyard.  Returning  we  sat 
upon  a  seat  in  the  stone  wall  and  watched  the  sun  set 
behind  the  "westermost  Wythop."  Climbing  a  slight 
eminence  on  our  left  brought  us  to  Greta  Hall  where 
Southey  had  his  home  and  where  Coleridge  was  his  guest 
for  several  years.  A  young  ladies'  boarding  school  now 
occupies  its  spacious  halls. 

A  quarter  to  eight  on  Friday  found  us  on  our  way 
northward.  At  Carlisle  we  took  two  hours  for  the 
Cathedral.  In  one  of  the  aisles  repose  the  remains 
of  my  old  friend  Paley,  and  over  his  grave  I  stood  think- 
ing what  if  I  were  to  strike  my  foot  against  a  watch. 
Some  friends  to  do  him  honor  (?)  in  1876,   removed  the 


48  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

pulpit  in  which  he  used  to  preach  and  substituted  a 
carved  marble  pulpit.  In  the  north  transept  is  a  large 
stained  glass  window  inserted  to  the  memory  of  the  five 
children  of  Archbishop  Tait,  who  died  in  the  adjoining 
Abbey  while  he  was  Dean  of  Carlisle.  At  Carlisle  is  a 
window  just  put  in  by  officers,  singularly  beautiful,  rep- 
resenting Joshua.  Gideon  and  Maccabaeus,  the  warrior 
Israelites.  The  east  window,  put  in  in  the  14th  century 
is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  windows  in  the  kingdom, 
but  we  found  ourselves  unable  to  appreciate  it.  It  is 
immense  in  size  and  mixed  and  minute  in  design. 

Glasgow,  like  Liverpool,  bears  the  marks  of  a  com- 
mercial city,  smoky  and  dirty.  We  were  most  unfortu- 
nate in  our  selection  of  a  hotel,  and  we  left  early  the 
morning  after  our  arrival  rather  cross.  But  we  paid  our 
respects  to  the  truly  grand  old  Cathedral  which  stands  in  a 
perfect  state,  and  is  wonderfully  embellished  by  its  exqui- 
site windows.  Each  cathedral  boasts  some  preeminence. 
Glasgow  claims  the  most  perfect  crypt  in  existence.  And 
wonderful  indeed  are  the  underground  churches,  perfect 
in  their  architecture,  pure  Gothic  and  decorated  with 
exquisite  windows.  A  window  representing  our  Saviour 
gave  to  me  the  most  perfect  idea  of  how  he  might  have 
looked,  of  any  picture  I  have  ever  seen.  It  was  the  work 
of  the  Munich  Art  School.  It  was  in  these  crypts  where 
Sir  Walter  Scott  places  the  meeting  between  Rob  Roy 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  49 

and  Frank  Osbaldistone.  The  metropolis  with  its  com- 
manding statue  of  Knox  lay  back  of  the  Cathedral,  the 
old  Barony  church  close  by  its  side. 

Friday,  July  24,  we  spent  in  the  Scottish  lakes,  our 
course  being  Glasgow  to  Balloch  by  rail  passing  Dum- 
barton; Balloch  to  Inversnaid  by  steamer  on  Loch 
lyomond,  Inversnaid  to  Sconachlacher  by  coach,  five 
miles,  lunch  there  and  then  steamer  on  Loch  Katrine  to 
the  Trossachs,  through  the  Trossachs  and  by  coach  to 
Callendar,  Callendar  by  rail  to  Edinburgh.  The  day  was 
warm  and  the  jaunt  too  long.  On  boat  and  coach  I  was 
made  miserable  by  smoke.  The  tobacco  of  Scotland  is 
the  vilest  I  ever  smelled,  and  pipes  are  the  rule.  I  was 
in  torture  from  the  Trossachs  to  Callendar  while  five  out 
of  eleven  passengers  puffed  clouds  of  vilest  smoke  into 
face,  eyes  and  nostrils.  The  smoking  habit  seems  to 
divest  a  man  of  all  regard  for  the  rights  and  feelings  of 
others. 

On  the  whole  Scotland  has  hardly  charmed  us  as 
much  as  England.  The  country  is  rougher  and  less 
cultivated.  The  scenery  in  the  Scottish  lakes  disap- 
pointed us  and  we  felt  quite  willing  to  place  Rangeley 
beside  it.  Yet  it  must  be  admitted  Loch  Lomond  is 
beautiful.  Its  surface  was  not  glaring  as  was  that  of 
Windermere  the  day  we  crossed  it.  That  peculiar  glassi- 
ness  I  never  remember  to  have  seen  before. 


so  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

London,  3  August. 
Our  first  view  of  Edinburgh  completely  charmed  us, 
and  the  charm  was  never  broken  during  the  few  days  of 
our  stay.  I  have  serious  doubts  whether  the  pleasant 
days  at  Edinburgh  will  be  duplicated  during  our  trip. 
We  took  rooms  at  the  Cockburn  House  close  to  the 
station,  and  in  walking  to  them  the  picturesque  features 
of  the  old  city  burst  upon  us  at  once.  At  our  right  were 
the  beautiful  Princess  gardens  stretching  down  the  ravine 
dividing  the  old  city  from  the  new  until  they  meet  the 
remarkable  massive  Greek  stone  buildings  occupied  by 
the  Antiquarian  Museum  and  the  National  Portrait  Gal- 
lery. In  front  of  us  was  piled  up  the  old  city,  house 
upon  house,  tier  upon  tier,  up  the  side  of  what  must  have 
been  a  precipice.  First  impressions  are  strong,  still  I 
can  conceive  of  no  circumstances  in  which  Edinburgh 
would  not  have  appealed  to  us  as  singularly  attractive. 
Upon  Sunday  I  was  prepared  to  rest,  and  damp  and  misty 
weather  setting  in,  there  was  little  to  tempt  me  out.  In 
the  morning,  however,  we  worshiped  at  St.  Andrews 
Free  Church.  I  say  worshiped,  but  there  was  very  little 
element  of  worship  in  the  bare  service.  No  organ,  no 
fine  hymns,  but  only  a  miserable  transcription  of  the 
psalms  beside  which  Dr.  Watts  is  as  Homer.  Everything 
about  the  place  was  as  bare  and  stiff  as  the  service.  The 
seats  were  high,  straight-backed  boxes  with  fast-closed 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  51 

doors.  The  sermon  was  by  Principal  Rainy,  the  chief 
antagonist  of  Robertson  Smith.  It  was  delivered  with- 
out notes  and  was  a  clear  and  forcible  exposition  of  the 
truths  taught  in  the  parable  of  the  sower. 

We  walked  up  to  St.  Giles  Cathedral,  where  John 
Knox  held  forth  in  the  stormy  days  of  Scotland's  history, 
if  indeed  Scotland  can  be  said  to  have  any  days  that  were 
not  stormy.  lyike  all  cathedrals  it  has  been  the  work  of  dif- 
ferent ages,  the  oldest  parts  dating  back  to  the  year  of 
1 1 20.  Its  history  is  closely  interwoven  with  that  of  the 
country.  It  was  partially  burned  during  the  wars  with 
England.  In  it  are  buried  Murray  and  Montrose.  Here 
on  the  23d  July,  1637,  the  Dean  (James  Hanna)  read  the 
English  service  book,  the  first  and  last  time  it  was  ever 
read  in  St.  Giles.  The  Dean  received  a  stool  at  his  head 
and  was  glad  to  retire.  This  lack  of  knowledge  of  the 
Scottish  people  on  the  part  of  Charles  I. ,  who  sought  to 
change  the  religion  of  a  country  by  a  proclamation,  illus- 
trates the  character  of  the  man  and  of  those  methods  which 
cost  him  his  life.  In  this  church  also  James  VI.  bade  his 
people  good-bye  upon  his  departure  to  assume  the  crown 
of  England.  There  is  something  very  beautiful  to  me 
in  the  way  the  life  of  these  people  is  written  in  these 
churches. 

The  Parliament  House  which  stands  by  the  side  of 
St.  Giles  brought  us  into  close  touch  with  the    history 


52  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

of  the  country.  Some  indifferent  portraits  of  dis- 
tinguished citizens  were  its  chief  interest.  In  the  square 
separating  the  two  buildings,  formerly  the  churchyard, 
lies  the  remains  of  the  man  who  swayed  the  history  of 
Scotland  in  its  crucial  year,  "I.  K.,  1572,"  is  the  only 
inscription.  I  can  not  love  him,  stem,  unloving  man 
that  he  was,  but  the  times  needed  him  and  the  results  of 
his  work  have  been  for  the  welfare  of  his  land  and  the 
honor  of  his  I/Ord. 

The  old  Tolbooth  prison,  made  famous  by  Scott, 
stood  close  to  the  Cathedral.  It  is  gone  now,  but  a  heart 
laid  in  the  brick  pavement  marks  its  site  as  the  Heart  of 
Mid-Lothian.  Walking  down  High  street  we  passed  the 
Canongate  Tolbooth,  where  Montrose  was  imprisoned. 
Crossing  the  bridge  we  took  a  car  at  the  Postofiice, 
made  a  circuit  of  the  town,  and  got  home  in  time  for 
dinner.  Our  ardor  not  in  the  least  quenched,  we  sal- 
lied out  after  dinner  and  walked  down  to  the  Grass- 
market,  the  scene  of  the  Porteus  riot.  The  place 
looked  innocent  enough,  yet  it  required  but  little  imagi- 
ination  to  bring  back  the  scenes  of  that  night.  We 
found  ourselves  near  the  castle,  and  a  long  climb  up 
a  dirty  close  brought  us  to  the  summit  of  the  hill  it 
crowns.  We  got  a  little  idea  of  how  the  poor  people 
live  by  our  walk  through  the  close.  Poverty  here,  as 
everywhere,  is  dirty  and  degrading.     Yet  in  Edinburgh 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  53 

it  seems  to  have  some  picturesque  features.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  see  the  women  and  children  come  out  of  these 
closes  into  the  main  streets,  as  bees  out  of  a  hive,  and  sun 
themselves  in  the  light  of  happier  lives.  The  women, 
bareheaded,  have  their  knitting  in  their  hands  and  stand 
and  talk  together.  The  children,  barefooted  as  well  as 
bareheaded,  play  about.  The  streets  in  Edinburgh  seem 
always  full.  The  old  fish-wives  were  quite  a  feature  in 
their  short  skirts  and  with  their  masculine  manners. 

Tuesday  morning  we  visited  the  Albert  Memorial 
Statue  which  we  found  rather  disappointing;  but  the 
National  Picture  Gallery  well  repaid  a  visit.  It  was  very 
full  in  its  productions  of  Scotch  artists.  Sir  David  Wilkie, 
Andrew  Geddes  and  James  Drummond.  The  scenes 
from  Scotch  history:  Porteus  Mob,  Montrose,  Mary 
Stuart's  Abdication,  etc.,  were  strikingly  executed. 
Several  Van  Dykes  were  well  worth  seeing. 

At  eleven  o'clock  we  made  a  trip  to  Rosslyn  Chapel 
and  Castle,  returning  for  dinner.  This  exquisite  Chapel 
proved  most  interesting  from  an  architectural  point  of 
view.  Built  in  the  fifteenth  century,  it  presents  an  ad- 
mirable example  of  the  decorated  Gothic.  The  carving 
is  delicate  and  exhibits  every  variety  possible  of 
design.  Each  capital  is  different  from  every  other. 
The  Castle,  a  mere  ruin,  though  picturesque,  gave  us 
some  insight  into  the  method  of  living  in  the   feudal 


54  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

times.  Two  men  ridiculously  drunk  were  about  the 
Castle.  We  have  seen  already  more  drunken  men  than  I 
see  in  a  year  at  home.     Everybody  seems  to  drink. 

The  evening  we  fulfilled  a  cherished  plan  of  climb- 
ing Arthur's  Seat  and  viewing  Edinburgh  by  moonlight. 
The  days  are  so  very  long  here  that  we  did  not  start  until 
after  half-past  eight.  The  ride  took  us  by  Holyrood  and 
round  the  Salisbury  Craig.  A  wonderful  Craig  this  which 
sits  as  a  crown  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill.  We  wound 
round  the  hill  watching  the  rising  moon  and  the  flicker 
of  the  gas  lights  as  they  appeared  in  the  houses  of  the 
city.  We  passed  St.  lyconard's  and  Jennie  Dean's  cot- 
tage, saw  Craig  Millar  in  the  distance  and  the  house 
where  Prince  Charles  slept  the  night  before  Prestonpans. 
The  ascent  to  Arthur's  Seat  after  leaving  the  carriage 
proved  too  much  and  we  were  obliged  to  content  our- 
selves with  a  view  from  a  less  lofty  height.  Beautiful 
indeed  was  the  city  lying  beneath  us,  with  the  fine  old 
Castle  in  the  centre,  the  delicate  spire  of  the  Scott  monu- 
ment rising  to  its  height,  the  lights  glowing  and  spark- 
ling from  window  and  from  street. 

Wednesday  morning  we  visited  Holyrood.  To  this  I 
had  looked  forward  with  the  greatest  interest.  The  palace 
is  rather  imposing  from  without  but  most  bare  and  cheer- 
less within.  Finished  in  the  plainest  style,  it  bears  no 
vestige  of  magnificence  or  royalty.     Its  rooms,  all  sug- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  55 

gestive  of  sorrow,  treachery  and  crime,  are  not  pleasant. 
It  has  seemed  easier  in  Scotland  than  anywhere  else  to 
forgive  Mary  Stuart  her  crimes,  and  to  execrate  her 
enemies  and  the  times  in  which  she  lived.  The  chapel, 
a  mere  ruin,  sown  with  the  dust  of  many  Scottish  kings, 
had  some  architectural  interest. 

I  must  speak  of  a  curious  incident  which  the  guide 
at  Edinburgh  Castle  told  us  as  he  showed  us  the  room 
where  James  VI.  was  bom.  He  says,  in  18 18,  when  the 
authorities  were  repairing  the  walls  of  that  room,  a  cofl5n 
was  found  in  which  were  the  remains  of  an  infant 
wrapped  in  royal  robes.  The  coffin  plate  bore  the  initial 
"I."     Query:   Who  was  the  child ? 

The  Abbey  Hotel  at  Melrose  received  us,  and  our 
room  looked  directly  upon  a  wall  of  the  old  ruin.  A 
ride  of  five  miles  brought  us  to  the  Tweed,  which  cross- 
ing, we  came  to  Dry  burgh  Abbey,  a  somber,  desolate 
spot.  Here  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  found  a  resting  place 
among  the  ashes  of  his  ancestors.  The  birds  have 
built  their  nests  above  him  and  keep  loving  watch 
over  his  tomb.  The  Monastery  here  was  the  best  pre- 
served we  have  seen  and  gave  us  a  good  idea  of  the 
life  of  mingled  jollity  and  asceticism. 

Melrose  by  moonlight!  It  was  a  little  disappointing. 
The  moon  was  slow  in  rising  and  at  eleven  was  not  far 
above  the  horizon.     It  was  a  weird  and  melancholy  sight 


56  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

to  see  those  massive  piles  of  stone  standing  alone  and 
speaking  so  eloquently  of  the  times  that  are  no  more. 
The  old  cathedrals  are  to  me  very  inspiring.  I 
love  to  think  of  the  long  centuries  in  which  the  light  of 
Christian  truth  which  they  have  held  aloft  has  never 
been  extinguished.  But  the  ruins  of  a  cathedral  are  unut- 
terable melancholy. 

An  early  start  in  the  morning  gave  us  a  visit  to 
Abbotsf ord  and  brought  us  back  to  Melrose  for  the  eleven 
o'clock  train  to  Durham.  Some  of  the  curiosities  at 
Abbotsford  interested  us  greatly.  Such  was  the  crucifix 
held  in  the  hand  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  before  her 
execution.  The  ride  to  Durham  was  uninteresting  and 
attended  with  some  changes  and  delays.  We  arrived 
a  little  after  four  and  walked  directly  to  the  Cathedral. 
It  is  beautifully  situated  on  the  bank  of  the  river  Wear, 
along  whose  bank,  as  seems  common  in  England,  runs  a 
path.  It  was  a  steep  climb  which  brought  us  to  the 
Cathedral  just  as  the  afternoon  service  was  over.  This 
venerable  church  dates  back  to  the  latter  part  of  the  nth 
century  and  retains  much  of  the  Norman  work.  In  it 
repose  the  remains  of  St.  Cuthbert  at  whose  shrine  the 
very  stone  was  worn  by  the  knees  of  worshiping  pil- 
grims. The  venerable  Bede  lies  in  the  chapel  at  the  rear 
of  the  church. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  57 

We  reached  Peterborough  in  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon and  took  a  bus  to  the  Angel  where  we  ordered  din- 
ner, and  proceeded  to  the  Cathedral.  Our  visit  here  was 
in  some  respects  the  most  interesting  of  all  those  paid  to 
the  churches.  The  building  was  in  process  of  repair. 
There  were  therefore  few  visitors  and  we  had  the  verger 
to  ourselves.  The  architecture  of  this  Cathedral  is  par- 
ticularly grand,  of  the  late  Norman  style.  The  apse 
is  very  fine,  while  the  vaulting  of  the  Lady  Chapel 
is  exquisite.  Here  is  the  tomb  of  Catharine  of 
Aragon,  unmarked,  and  here  also  was  buried  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots,  until  her  removal  to  Westminster. 

It  was  bed  time  when  we  reached  Ely  and  the  Lamb 
gave  us  a  comfortable  home  for  the  night.  The  restora- 
tions of  the  Cathedral  here  are  very  complete.  The 
stone  is  clean  and  pure  and  in  its  exhibitions  of  dif- 
ferent styles  of  architecture  this  church  is  prominent. 
Its  octagon  lantern  with  its  rich  decorations  is 
grand.  Its  two  Chapels,  Bishop  Alcock's  and  Bishop 
West's,  are  excellent  specimens  of  decorated  and  perpen- 
dicular architecture,  both  very  rich. 

Our  first  sight  of  London  was  at  about  two  o'clock, 
Saturday,  August  2nd.  We  rode  from  the  Liverpool  street 
station  to  Bloomsbury  square,  and  thence  to  Camden  for 
our  trunk.  Our  room  in  Southampton  street,  which  we 
had  engaged  in  advance,  we  found  three  flights  up  and 


58  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

very  poor.  It  made  us  a  little  homesick,  but  the  middle  of 
the  next  week  we  are  to  have  two  good  rooms  on  the  first 
floor.  Breakfast  and  tea  we  take  in  our  room  and  dinner 
at  a  nice  restaurant  near  by.  We  have  not  been 
over  well  pleased  with  English  meals,  particularly  break- 
fast, at  which  it  seems  to  be  the  custom  to  serve  only 
bread  (cold)  with  chops  or  steak.  No  potato,  no  break- 
fast cake,  no  porridge,  no  fruit.  Butter  is  universally  poor. 
We  have  seen  some  good,  and  think  ourselves  fortunate 
if  it  is  not  absolutely  rank.  It  does  not  seem  to  be  the 
fashion  to  give  napkins  except  at  dinner.  This  was  so  in 
Edinburgh.  Everything  is  eaten  on  one  plate.  Roast 
beef  is  almost  invariably  delicious.  Steak  is  no  better  than 
ours.  Prices  we  have  found  dear.  Breakfasts  at  hotels 
have  ranged  from  2S.6d.  to  3s.  6d.  and  literally  nothing 
to  eat  but  meat  and  cold  bread. 

We  took  a  little  walk  on  High  Holborn  and  went 
into  some  book  shops,  etc.  Everything  seems  intolerably 
dirty.  The  burning  of  soft  coal  gives  everything  a 
grimy  look  and  makes  the  air  foul.  It  seems  impossible 
to  fill  the  lungs  with  pure  air.  Sunday  morning  we 
walked  down  to  St.  Margaret's  church,  near  Westminster, 
to  hear  Canon  Farrar  preach.  It  was  a  very  unpleasant 
walk,  through  poverty,  wretchedness  and  filth,  foul 
sights  and  foul  smells.  The  old  church  in  which  are 
interred  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  William  Caxton  presents 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING,  59 

no  remarkable  features.  A  large,  crowded  house  listened 
to  the  sermon  which  was  on  the  things  which  cannot  be 
shaken  (Heb.  xii:  27),  He  is  a  vigorous,  energetic  speaker, 
reminding  one  of  Phillips  Brooks,  and  showing  him- 
self to  be  the  same  master  of  phrases  as  a  speaker,  that 
we  have  found  him  to  be  as  a  writer.  The  service  freed 
from  the  Cathedral  mummeries  was  quite  endurable.  We 
took  lunch  at  the  Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  and  waited 
there  until  three  o'clock  when  the  service  in  the  Abbey 
began.  Canon  Westcott  spoke  from  the  same  text  from 
which  Farrar  preached  in  the  morning.  He  was  very 
direct  and  vigorous.  The  testimony  which  he  bore  to 
the  value  of  the  Bible  was  striking,  coming  from  so 
eminent  a  Biblical  scholar.  "The  more  I  study  the 
Bible,  the  more  I  find  it  the  Word  of  God." 

In  the  evening  we  heard  Stopford  A.  Brooke,  whose 
Bedford  Chapel  is  near  by.  He  had  few  hearers.  Some 
way  Unitarian  Christianity  does  not  attract  the  people. 
The  service  was  similar  to  that  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land with  Christ  left  out  of  it.  His  subject  was  a  very 
similar  one  to  those  of  the  morning.  The  sermon  was 
strong,  and  yet  weak,  where  Unitarianism  is  and  must 
always  be  weak.  It  gave  one  nothing  to  rest  on,  but 
turned  man  back  upon  himself.  The  infallibility  of  the 
church  is  gone,  the  infallibility  of  the  Bible  is  gone,  man 
has  no   other   rule   than   himself.     Mr.    Brooke   has  a 


6o  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

peculiar  manner,  strong  and  forcible,  yet  with  a  little 
snarl  in  his  voice. 

Monday  I  found  myself  a  good  deal  fagged  and  was 
quite  willing  Charles  should  go  out  alone  to  find  the 
American  minister  and  to  do  other  necessary  business. 
After  dinner,  however,  I  felt  equal  to  some  exertion  and 
we  visited  the  British  Museum,  which  is  close    by. 

The  weather  we  are  finding  cold  and  stone  buildings 
rather  uncomfortable.  Every  morning  is  damp  and  cloudy 
with  signs  of  rain,  but  before  noon  it  clears  away  and 
is  moderately  pleasant.  We  took  a  hansom  Tuesday 
and  rode  for  an  hour  about  the  West  End  viewing  the  fine 
residences  and  the  parks.  Buckingham  Palace  did  not 
look  very  attractive.  In  fact  all  the  buildings  are  so 
smoked  and  grimed  that  none  of  them  can  be  said  to  be 
really  attractive.  Hyde  Park  looked  dreary.  I  expected 
flowers  in  it.  Indeed  in  seeing  everything  there  is  a 
sense  of  disappointment  which  is  hard  to  define.  I  sup- 
pose we  have  so  filled  all  these  places  with  romance  that 
there  is  an  unconscious  drop  in  our  feelings  when  we 
find  the  people  made  of  clay  and  the  earth  composed  of 
sand  and  loam.  Even  Westminster  Abbey,  to  which  we  were 
driven  after  our  ride,  was  disappointing,  though  we  found 
everything  we  expected  to  find,  and  more.  I  was  pre- 
pared for  the  general  dinginess  of  everything  about  it. 
It  seems  to  me  sapolio  might  improve  matters  a  good 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  6i 

deal.  Besides,  one  never  feels  as  lie  thinks  he  is  going  to 
or  as  he  expects  to  when  standing  in  a  place  so  full  of 
associations  and  memories.  Not  only  are  there  here 
monuments  to  the  great  and  good,  but  there  are  hosts  of 
hideous,  grotesque  mortuary  emblems,  to  people  long 
dead  and  forgotten,  that  are  truly  ridiculous.  Indeed  one 
sees  very  few  truly  fitting  memorials  of  the  dead,  but  huge 
sarcophagi;  and  towering,  black  cenotaphs  with  designs 
of  most  wretched  taste.  A  simple  and  fitting  memorial, 
one  of  the  most  fitting,  was  that  to  Sir  John  Franklin.  It 
was  a  simple  tablet  with  his  bust  in  relief  above,  and 
below  a  carved  representation  of  a  frost  and  ice  bound 
ship.  Below,  the  words:  "O  ye  frost  and  O  ye  snow 
and  ice,  praise  him,"  and  Tennyson's  epitaph: 

"Not  here!  the  white  North  has  thy  bones;  and  thou 

Heroic    sailor  soul, 
Art  passing  on  thine  happier  voyage  now 

Toward  no  earthly  pole." 

Of  his  wife  is  said:  "She  has  gone  to  seek  him  in 
higher  realms." 

At  half-past  one  the  Abbey  was  cleared  for  the  fun- 
eral services  of  General  Grant.  We  had  excellent  seats 
in  the  poet's  corner.  A  more  fitting  service  it  would  be 
hard  to  conceive.  The  place,  the  time,  the  character  of 
the  music  and  the  address  were  all  most  appropriate. 
The  eulogy  of  Canon  Farrar  was  such  that  even  I  could 


62  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

take  no  exception  to  it.  It  concerned  him  as  a  general, 
rather  than  as  a  man  or  statesman,  and  closed  with 
eloquent  words  upon  the  oneness  of  the  two  nations. 
Representatives  of  the  Queen  and  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
were  in  attendance,  as  well  as  the  Duke  of  Cambridge 
and  Marquis  of  I^orne.  Chief  Justice  Waite  and  Mr. 
Gladstone  were  also  present. 

lyONDON,  1 6  August. 
The  past  ten  days  have  been  filled  with  sightseeing 
of  the  most  heterogeneous  character.     The  diary   has 
been  as  follows: 

Wednesday,  Aug.  5. — House  of  Commons;  Mme.  Tissaud. 

Thursday,  Aug.  6. — Windsor  Castle,  Eton,  Stoke  Pogis. 

Friday,  Aug.  7. — Tower  of  London;  Shops. 

Saturday,  Aug,  8.— St.  Paul's;  Shops. 

Sunday,  Aug.  9. — Spurgeon. 

Monday,  Aug.  10. — House  of  Peers,  Westminster  Abbey. 

Tuesday,  Aug.  11. — Inventions,  South  Kensington. 

Wednesday,  Aug.  12. — British  Gallery. 

Thursday,  Aug.  13. — Crystal  Palace. 

Friday,  Aug.  14. — Zoological  Gardens. 
We  have  found  many  places  of  public  interest  closed 
to  visitors  and  put  under  strict  police  surveillance. 
This  is  one  of  the  penalties  paid  for  living  in  a  monarchy. 
It  is  very  evident  that  the  "dynamite  scare"  did  scare. 
Such  places  as  the  Tower  and  Parliament  House  do  not 
open  without  an  open  sesame.     Thus  we  were  fortunate 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  63 

to  have  to  this  latter  place  a  letter  given  us  by  Mr. 
Howard  to  Henry  Richard,  M.  P,  The  Parliament 
House,  vast  as  it  is  in  extent  and  tall  as  are  its  towers, 
does  not  strike  one  as  imposing.  It  sits  too  low,  directly 
on  the  river  from  which  it  is  seen  to  the  best  advantage. 
It  partakes  of  that  same  grimy  appearance  which  seems 
to  be  a  characteristic  of  all  I^ondon  buildings.  It  might 
be  four  hundred  rather  than  forty  years  old  as  far  as  its 
appearance  goes.  I  felt  inclined  to  make  comparisons 
unfavorable  to  it  with  our  own  white  Capitol.  And 
when  inside  I  did  not  find  myself  inclined  to  yield  a  point 
to  the  British  Capitol.  Its  carvings  are  in  wood  and 
stone  rather  than  in  marble.  The  central  hall,  octagon 
in  form,  bears  comparison  with  our  rotunda.  But  it  has 
no  dome.  The  House  of  Commons,  small,  rather  plainly 
furnished,  surprised  me.  I  was  put  in  a  little  cage  above 
the  Speaker  and  at  first  thought  I  was  in  a  committee 
room.  It  proved  to  be  a  day  in  which  every  one  was 
airing  his  peculiar  grievance,  and  we  heard  several  Irish 
members  speak.  The  manner  of  speaking  seemed  to  us 
halting  and  defective.  It  was,  however,  for  the  most 
part  devoid  of  attempts  at  oratory  which  sometimes  make 
our  solons  ridiculous.  Some  of  the  paintings  in  the  cor- 
ridors were  fine,  and  all  interesting  from  an  historical 
point  of  view.  It  shows  the  continuity  of  English  his- 
tory to  find  pictures  of  such  diverse  elements. 


64  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Our  visit  to  Windsor  proved  something  of  a  failure. 
The  day  turned  rainy  before  we  got  home.  The  place  is 
also  perfectly  besieged  with  cabmen  and  guides  and  small 
boys  all  determined  to  get  their  penny  or  shilling.  We 
were  marched  through  the  state  apartments  in  a  kind  of 
quick  metre  time  without  a  chance  to  ruminate  on  the 
immutability  of  Kings  and  Empires.  Palaces  are  rather 
dreary  places.  They  seem  more  like  prisons.  St. 
George's  Chapel  proved  interesting,  but  into  the  Albert 
Chapel  we  were  unable  to  penetrate  (dynamite).  This 
Chapel  and  the  vaults  contain  the  ashes  of  the  family  of 
George  III. ,  also  those  of  Henry  VIII. ,  Jane  Seymour  and 
Charles  I.  Here  the  Queen  has  erected  monuments  to 
her  father,  her  aunt,  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester  and  her 
uncle,  King  Leopold,  "who  was  to  her  as  a  father  and  to 
whom  she  was  as  a  daughter. ' '  The  monument  to  the 
Princess  Charlotte  is  very  fine  for  one  with  so  elaborate  a 
design.  It  represents  the  mortal  body  and  the  freed 
spirit.  Weeping  friends  surround  the  body,  angels,  one 
of  whom  bears  her  infant,  accompany  the  immortal  part. 

The  stables,  be  it  said,  were  also  interesting,  very 
models  of  cleanliness.  The  Queen  has  only  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty  horses.  We  saw  her  favorite  saddle 
horse,  Jessie,  but  none  of  the  horses  seemed  to  us 
wonderfully  fine. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  65 

lycaving  Windsor  after  dinner  we  crossed  the  river 
to  Eton  where  we  wandered  about  in  the  various  rooms 
under  the  conduct  of  an  amiably  garrulous  old  man.  He 
knew  us  to  be  Americans  and  took  us  into  his  sanctum 
where  he  had  a  picture  of  Abbot  I^awrence  whom  he 
used  to  know,  as  well  as  Daniel  Webster  and  Edward 
Everett,  as  he  declared.  They  used  to  visit  his  old  mas- 
ter. At  Stoke  Pogis  we  stood  in  that  little  graveyard 
where  the  "rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep."  Gray 
himself  is  buried  there,  although  his  monument  is  in  the 
Park  some  fifty  rods  away. 

Driving  on  to  Slough  in  a  pouring  rain,  we  took 
our  train,  which  landed  us  in  due  time  in  London. 

Mr.  Richard  kindly  obtained  from  the  war  depart- 
ment a  pass  admitting  us  to  the  Tower  of  lyondon,  and 
thither  we  bent  our  steps.  A  friendly  Beefeater  {buf- 
fetier)  met  us  and  was  the  first  object  of  interest,  in  his 
costume  descended  from  Henry  VIII.  It  was  a  blood- 
curdling place  and  one  thoroughly  fitted  to  fill  us  with 
thanksgiving  that  we  live  in  happier  times.  The  old 
Norman  Chapel  (St.  John's)  of  the  White  Tower  is  the 
purest  specimen  of  Roman  architecture  that  we  have  yet 
seen.  The  most  pathetic  place  in  England  I  believe  to 
be  the  little  chapel  of  St.  Peters,  where  lie  buried  the 
many  victims  of  revenge  and  hate,  who  have  laid  down 
their  lives  in   this    unhallowed    place, — Anne    Boleyn, 


66  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THIVING. 

Jane  Grey,  Thomas  More,  Earl  Essex,  Lord  Guildford 
Dudley,  and  many  others.  It  gives  one  a  realizing  sense 
of  what  it  is  to  live  in  happier  times. 

St.  Paul's  is  vast.  It  did  not  seem  altogether  pleas- 
ing after  the  grand  Gothic.  No  other  architecture  is  so 
fit  for  the  worship  of  God.  When  its  decorations  are 
complete  St.  Paul's  will  be  magnificent,  but  it  will  not 
be  a  church.  The  monuments  seemed  to  me  on  the  whole 
less  grotesque  than  those  of  Westminster  Abbey.  For 
the  most  part  they  commemorate  army  and  navy  ofl&cers, 
prominent  among  whom  are  Wellington  and  Nelson. 
The  whispering  gallery,  reached  by  a  long  staircase, 
is  an  amusing  example  of  the  echo.  The  old  fuddy- 
duddy  in  charge  rather  hurt  the  effect. 

After  St.  Paul's  we  wandered  around  in  Paternoster 
Row  among  the  book-shops.  There  are  times  when  it 
seems  we  must  come  upon  old  Sam.  Johnson  or  stumble 
upon  Steele  or  Addison.  Of  all  shops  the  book-shops 
seem  the  most  unpretending. 

The  Tabernacle  and  Spurgeon  were  the  objects  of 
our  pilgrimage  Sunday  morning.  An  immense  audience, 
in  a  plain  building,  were  our  first  impressions.  No 
organ,  no  choir,  the  hymns  lined  off  by  the  minister, 
who  was  the  one  point  around  which  everything  revolved. 
The  face  of  the  man  was  repulsive,  but  in  the  sermon 
there  was  little  to  condemn  as  there  was  little  to  praise. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  67 

It  was  devoid  of  all  eloquence,  of  all  fine  writing,  of  all 
rhetoric,  of  all  illustrations,  but  was  pervaded  by  tbe 
right  spirit.  This  sermon,  too,  was  on  the  sure  founda- 
tions: 2  Tim.,  ii:i9.  The  sermon  was  evangelistic  in 
the  best  sense.  The  congregation  was  composed  of  quite 
ordinary  people. 

Through  Mr.  Phelps  we  obtained  a  pass  for  the 
House  of  Peers.  It  was  a  rare  privilege  to  hear  in  the 
course  of  the  hour  we  were  there  the  Marquis  of  Salis- 
bury, Earl  Eddisleigh,  Earl  Denman,  Earl  Milltown, 
Earl  Granville  and  some  others. 

We  also  paid  our  last  visit  to  Westminster  Abbey. 
On  the  whole  my  impression  of  disappointment  does  not 
wear  away.  We  were  glad  to  see  the  Jerusalem  Cham- 
ber, a  noble  room  and  full  of  noble  memories.  The  cor- 
onation chair  was  a  sorry  sight.  I  suppose  English  sov- 
ereigns will  continue  to  be  crowned  in  it  as  they  have 
been  since  the  days  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  but  it  is 
well  to  cover  its  ugliness  with  crimson  and  gold.  It  is  in 
the  retrospect  that  the  Abbey  appears  to  be  all  that  it 
ought  to  be,  all  that  it  really  is.  One  forgets  then  all 
that  is  incongruous  and  thinks  only  of  the  grand,  the 
pathetic,  the  sublime. 

Wednesday,  12  August. 

We  gave  this  day  to  the  National  Gallery  in  Traf- 
algar Square,  and  a  delightful  day  it  proved.      We  had 


68  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

an  opportunity  of  studying  Turner  upon  his  various 
sides.  In  his  earlier  paintings,  which  resemble  Claude, 
we  find  little  to  admire.  But  his  later  pieces  are  sui 
generis.  No  other  artist  has  ever  attempted  to  paint, 
much  less  succeeded  in  painting,  motion.  The  fire,  the 
whirlwind,  the  storm  under  his  brush  become  reali- 
ties. We  had  here  our  first  Raphaels, — one  recently 
purchased  at  a  cost  of  ^70,000.  We  sat  before  it  a  long 
long  time  waiting  to  be  stirred  and  moved  but  we  waited 
in  vain.  The  picture  which  had  the  most  power  over 
me  was  Ary  Scheffer's  St.  Augustine  and  his  Mother. 
Those  faces  are  wonderful.  Scheffer  excels  not  in  flesh 
and  blood  but  in  soul  and  spirit.  Those  calm,  intense 
faces,  so  like  each  other  in  form  and  purpose,  clearly  out- 
lined against  the  cold,  grey  sky,  the  sphinx  in  the  dis- 
tance, live  in  the  memory  and  I  believe  always  will. 

Monday. 
We  started  in  the  morning  to  pay  our  homage  at  the 
shrine  of  that  old  heathen,  Thomas  Carlyle.  In  order  to 
kill  two  birds  we  went  to  London  bridge  to  take  a  Chelsea 
boat  so  that  we  might  have  a  ride  on  the  river.  It  was 
an  "experience,"  and  one  which  I  think  will  serve  a 
life  time.  London  bridge  seems  to  be  the  aortic  valve  of 
London.  But  as  its  stream  is  so  impure  perhaps  it  would 
be  better  to  liken  it  to  the  vena  cava.  We  wandered  about 
amid  all  manner  of  smells,  and  finally  gave  a  boy  a  penny 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  69 

to  get  us  on  board  the  boat.  The  view  of  the  Thames 
Embankment,  of  Cleopatra's  Needle  and  the  Parliament 
House  repaid  us,  however.  Our  good  friend  Baedeker, 
which  has  proved  invaluable  to  us,  was  left  at  home  and 
we  had  to  depend  on  our  Yankee  tongue.  We  walked 
over  two  miles  to  find  Cheyne  Row.  This  word  I  had 
always  pronounced  in  my  mind  Sheen,  or  the  principle  of 
chicatiery.  Mr.  Beach  called  it  Kine  after  the  analogy  of 
chiropodist.  Charles  split  the  difference  and  called  it 
Chine  like  church,  but  when  we  arrived  on  the  ground 
the  old  teamster  who  gave  us  our  start,  called  it  Chdney. 
Such  a  vaporous  thing  is  fame  that  we  could  with  difi&- 
culty  find  a  man  to  tell  us  where  dwelt  the  modern 
incarnation  of  selfishness.  The  shutters  were  closed  and 
For  Sale  placarded.  Charles  gazed  long  down  the  hole 
where  the  returned  manuscripts  were  wont  to  be  depos- 
ited. It  was  a  dismal,  cheerless  place,  and  it  would  take 
much  love  to  make  it  endurable  to  any  proud  and  sen- 
sitive woman. 

The  afternoon  we  made  our  second  attack  on  the 
British  Museum,  but  it  was  almost  as  futile  as  the  first. 
I  never  feel  very  wise,  I  often  feel  very  ignorant,  but  I 
don't  think  my  ignorance  ever  has  so  sensible  a  weight 
as  when  I  am  in  the  British  Museum. 

Tuesday  found  us  wandering  amid  the  delightful 
fine  arts  collection  of  the  South  Kensington  Museum. 


70  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

It  was  so  cold  that  I  was  forced  to  come  home  before 
spending  half  the  time  we  wished.  It  is  a  museum 
exquisitely  arranged  and  containing  beautiful  things 
enough  to  turn  one's  head.  The  afternoon  I  stayed  in 
for  repairs  and  mended  my  clothes. 

The  most  delightful  day  spent  in  England  was  that 
which  we  passed  at  Cambridge,  Wednesday,  August  19th. 
An  express  train  landed  us  without  a  stop  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Cam.  A  hansom  drove  us  at  once  to 
Girton.  The  building  is  attractive  upon  first  view. 
Only  two  stories  high,  it  stretches  out  wing  upon  wing 
catching  all  possible  air  and  sunshine.  If  only  Vassar 
buildings  could  have  been  erected  on  such  a  principle! 
Everything  seemed  pleasant  and  the  air  of  the  place  was 
refined  and  scholarly.  The  bath-room,  bed-room  and  sit- 
ting-room of  a  suite  were  cosy  and  comfortable.  The 
library,  a  pleasant  room,  contained  a  choice  though  not 
extensive  collection  of  books.  The  recitation  rooms  looked 
thoroughly  feminine  in  their  blue  felt  rugs  and  blue  table 
spreads. 

Driving  back  to  the  city  we  were  left  at  King's 
Chapel,  that  beautiful  church  for  which  Cambridge  is 
famed.  In  it  we  found  it  was  difficult  which  to  admire 
more,  the  stone  pillars  and  arches  worked  into  the  most 
delicate  fan  tracery  in  the  roof,  the  wood  carvings  of 
the  screen  or  the  exquisite  windows  with  their   chaste 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  ^^ 

designs  and  rich  colourings.  Its  general  architec- 
ture is  that  of  the  latest  perpendicular  Gothic  slightly 
influenced,  noticeably  in  the  screen,  by  the  renaissance. 
From  King's  Chapel  we  went  to  the  University  library 
where,  through  the  courtesy  of  a  graduate  who  happened 
to  be  drawing  books,  we  were  admitted  to  the  rooms  and 
alcoves.  This  library,  with  several  others,  receives  by 
law  a  copy  of  every  book  copyrighted  in  the  kingdom. 
It  has  thus  amassed  a  vast  number  of  books;  and  it  seemed 
to  us  like  a  museum  for  keeping  books  rather  than  a 
working  library.  Here,  as  well  as  at  the  British  Museum, 
the  cumbrous  written  catalogue  is  in  vogue.  A  very 
small  force  is  employed,  only  some  twelve  in  all.  From 
the  library  the  same  gentleman  took  us  to  the  Students' 
Union.  Its  rooms  were  handsome.  Of  course  few 
students  are  now  in  the  city.  Our  lunch  was  followed 
by  a  visit  to  Trinity  College.  The  Chapel,  more  modern, 
perhaps  more  homelike  than  that  of  King's  College, 
contained  busts  and  statues  of  several  of  Trinity's 
noble  sous:  I/Ord  Bacon,  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  Dr.  Whewell 
and  Macaulay  stood  out  in  strongest  relief.  The  library 
contains  row  after  row  of  books  neatly  and  tastefully 
arranged,  but  like  the  University  library  it  seems  hardly 
designed  for  use.  Its  shelves  are  open  to  students  as 
those  of  the  University  are  not.  Here  is  deposited  the 
telescope  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  here  is  the  statue  of 


72  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Byron  by  Thorwaldson  which  found  a  resting  place  in  his 
Alma  Mater  after  in  vain  seeking  a  place  in  Westmin- 
ster. It  is  a  noble  work  of  art.  Would  the  artist  had  had 
a  nobler  subject  !  At  Trinity  we  passed  from  court  to 
court,  for  the  colleges  are  all  built  about  courts,  until  we 
found  ourselv^es  by  the  river.  Here  an  enchanting  view 
met  our  eyes; — the  broad,  low  banks  of  the  Cam,  crossed 
and  recrossed  by  bridges  of  the  most  artistic  designs;  the 
rows  of  trees  shading  broad  walks,  the  trees  fringing  the 
river  and  dipping  their  branches  into  its  waters;  the  pictur- 
esque little  boats  sculled  by  stalwart  young  oarsmen, — all 
made  the  finest  picture  which  we  have  yet  seen  in  merrie 
England.  Caught  by  the  spirit  of  the  place  we  chartered 
a  row  boat  and  rowed  up  and  down  the  river  past  the 
colleges  until  we  lighted  upon  some  views  not  so  delight- 
ful, when  we  turned  back.  In  an  angle  of  the  great 
court  at  Trinity  we  found  that  walk  under  the  chapel 
windows  where  Macaulay  wandered  back  and  forth  book 
in  hand,  and  where  Trevellyan  says  his  dim  shade  must 
linger.  Every  one  treated  us  with  great  civility,  and  in  the 
porter  we  found  a  woman  who  showed  us  the  rooms,  close 
together,  formerly  occupied  by  Macaulay,  Newton  and 
Thackeray. 

St.  John's  College  was  next  visited.  W^e  saw  its  Chapel 
and  a  suite  of  rooms  belonging  to  rather  a  gay  student 
given  to  entertainments  of  a  non-scholastic  sort.      Next 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  73 

we  proudly  bent  our  steps  to  Emanuel  College,  the  foun- 
tain of  our  early  Massachusetts  culture,  the  college  of 
Harvard  and  Shepard.  The  porter  was  just  sufficiently 
mellowed  by  the  genial  influence  of  the  wine  cup  to  be 
in  a  most  complaisant  mood.  To  know  we  were  from 
Cambridge,  New  England,  was  to  open  the  fountain  of 
his  hospitality  and  knowledge.  He  favored  us  with  dis- 
sertations on  the  Reformation,  with  quotations  from  the 
great  poets,  with  dramatic  recitations  of  Shakespere, 
with  historical  reminiscence  and  college  jokes.  He  took 
us  to  the  chapel,  where  a  window  memorial  to  Harvard 
tells  that  his  work  is  not  unknown  or  unappreciated  in 
his  old  home.  He  showed  us  the  rooms  which  he  occu- 
pied in  college  and  also  the  kitchen  where  the  stu- 
dents of  the  present  day  draw  their  good  cheer. 

At  Christ's  College  we  peered  through  the  bars  in 
vain  for  a  sight  of  Milton's  Mulberry  tree.  A  passing  horse 
car  took  us  to  the  station, — and  our  day  in  Cambridge 
was  past.  I  think  our  own  Harvard  seems  greater  to  us 
than  it  did.  She  may  have  no  King's  Chapel,  but 
neither  has  Cambridge  an  Agassiz  Museum,  a  Memorial 
Hall  or  a  Hemenway  Gymnasium. 

Thursday  we  paid  a  visit  to  the  Albert  Memorial,  a 
vast  and  splendid  monument  erected  by  Queen  Victoria 
and  her  people  to  the  memory  of  the  Prince  Consort. 
Its  cost,   ;^  1 20,000,  gives  an  idea  of  its  magnificence. 


74  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

The  study  of  its  allegorical  groups  consumed  a  good  deal 
of  our  time: — America,  represented  by  a  bison  and 
Indian  tamed  by  the  hunter,  and  the  goddess  of  liberty,  all 
satisfied  our  national  pride.  The  National  Portrait  Gal- 
lery consumed  the  rest  of  the  day.  We  found  it  ex- 
tremely interesting,  containing  the  portraits  of  nearly 
every  Englishman  and  woman  of  distinction  from  the 
days  of  the  Tudors  to  the  present  time.  Nearly  all 
were  by  eminent  artists  and  were  worth  study  for  their 
intrinsic  merit  as  well  as  for  their  subjects. 

Friday  was  our  last  day  in  London  and  it  was  with 
almost  homesick  feelings  that  we  prepared  to  leave  our 
comfortable  home  in  Southampton  street.  Particularly 
did  we  linger  at  the  Holborn  restaurant  where  our  daily 
portion  of  English  roast  beef  has  been  consumed.  We 
have  found  living  in  London  very  reasonable  and  very 
comfortable.  The  breakfasts  are  meagre  enough  and  I 
can't  get  used  to  living  without  fruit.  The  butter,  too, 
has  been  a  trial.  We  found  considerable  packing  to  do, 
for,  at  the  last  moment,  we  decided  not  to  take  a  trunk  to 
the  continent.  The  buying  of  tickets  consumed  con- 
siderable time,  for  the  stupid  Englishman  has  not  yet 
learned  how  berths  can  be  secured  when  tickets  are  sold 
at  different  places. 

After  dinner  we  went  to  the  banker's  for  letters,  and 
thence  to  the  headquarters  of  the  Salvation  Army,  where 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  75 

we  spent  a  half  hour  in  looking  over  their  literature.  It 
impressed  me  favorably.  It  seemed  filled  with  sensible 
ideas,  well  calculated  to  train  the  class  of  people  among 
whom  it  works  into  principles  of  truth  and  duty.  The 
peculiar  sensational  elements  of  the  system  occupied  a 
small  part  of  its  pages.  An  omnibus  took  us  to  Trafal- 
gar Square,  and  thence  we  began  our  walk  through  the 
Mall  to  Buckingham  Palace,  taking  Marlborough  House, 
St.  James  Palace  and  Clarence  House  on  our  right.  A 
strange  palace  is  St.  James.  Brick  stables  jumbled 
together  would  be  almost  as  beautiful  and  imposing. 
Marlborough  House  we  did  not  find  attractive  and  we 
took  occasion  once  more,  as  we  have  many  times  before, 
to  bless  our  stars  that  we  are  not  royalty. 

After  a  light  tea  at  the  Holborn,  we  were  ready  for 
our  drive  to  the  Great  Eastern  Station,  where  at  half- 
past  eight  we  set  out  for  Harwich.  An  uneventful  ride 
in  company  with  jolly  strangers  of  several  nationalities 
brought  us  to  the  place  of  embarkation  where  the  Maude 
Hamilton  was  waiting  to  receive  us.  A  comfortable 
little  state-room,  or  private  cabin,  as  they  call  it,  was 
reserved  for  us,  and  all  seemed  favorable  for  a  night  of 
calm  repose.  But,  alas,  for  human  calculations!  The 
boat  rolled  and  our  stomachs  rolled.  The  kind  old 
stewardess  was  as  sympathetic  as  could  be  and  full  of 
suggestions.     Her  prescription   for    us  was  champagne 


76  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

which  I  took  with  as  much  alacrity  as  though  I  had 
never  been  president  of  a  W.  C.  T.  U. !  It  really  allayed 
the  distress,  and  the  rest  of  the  night  was  passed  in  uneasy 
slumber.  Charles  rebelled  against  the  champagne  and 
it  did  not  seem  to  have  a  correspondingly  beneficial 
effect.  He  preferred  to  hug  his  old  friend,  the  brandy 
bottle. 

Brussels,  27  August. 
A  very  busy  and  very  interesting  time  has  been  ours. 
Our  eyes  have  been  opened  to  strange  sights  and  our 
ears  to  stranger  sounds.  We  have  left  Holland  with  very 
good  opinions  regarding  our  Dutch  brothers  collectively 
and  individually.  A  wonderful  people  is  our  verdict. 
They  not  only  cultivate  their  land  and  cultivate  it  highly, 
but  they  make  the  land  they  cultivate,  and  rather  than 
fight  to  win  territory,  they  prefer  to  encroach  upon  the 
domains  of  old  Neptune,  and  by  hard  and  honest  toil  to 
gain  their  acres.  For  many  of  the  strange  sights  we 
had  been  prepared  by  reading  and  by  pictures:  the 
peculiar  dress  of  the  working  women,  in  their  short  petti- 
coats, wooden  shoes,  caps  and  gold  head-bands;  the  heavy 
cart  drawn  by  dogs;  the  tall,  narrow,  canting  houses;  the 
life, — eating,  drinking  and  talking  out  of  doors.  Yet 
neither  pictures  nor  written  descriptions  are  quite  like 
seeing  with  one's  eyes.  The  four  Dutch  towns  we  were 
in  seemed  each  to  possess  some  novelty  of  its  own.     Rot- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  77 

terdam  was  peculiar  for  the  number  and  proportions  of 
its  dog  teams;  Amsterdam  for  the  remarkable  tipsy  char- 
acter of  its  houses,  and  its  system  of  canals,  rivaling 
those  of  Venice.  At  Ley  den  we  saw  women,  on 
steps  leading  to  the  canals,  doing  their  family  washing; 
at  Delft  women  and  dogs  were  drawing  heavy  canal 
boats.  How  those  Dutchmen  smoke!  It  seems  to  me  I 
did  not  see  a  male  Hollander  without  a  pipe  or  cigar. 
Youngsters  of  five  puff  their  cigars  in  company  with  their 
elders,  and  they  do  not  even  take  out  the  pipe  when  they 
eat.  Smoking  in  restaurants  and  smoking  while  eating 
was  a  new  sight  to  me.  Eating  out  of  doors  always  had  a 
poetic  sound  to  me,  and  I  had  fancied  the  greensward 
beneath  the  feet  and  the  waving  branches  of  the  trees 
above  the  head.  Instead  of  these  delights  they  set  their 
tables  out  on  the  sidewalk,  and,  blocking  the  way  to 
pedestrians,  quaff  their  schnapps  and  puff  their  pipes. 
All  the  towns  are  kept  neat  by  constant  scrubbing,  but 
I  could  not  but  think  that  the  centuries  of  such  treatment 
had  rubbed  a  good  deal  of  dirt  in  as  well  as  off.  Neat 
and  clean  the  streets  certainly  are,  but  an  almost  entire 
absence  of  trees  and  greensward  gives  them  a  bare  appear- 
ance. The  general  air  of  thrift  and  contentment  among 
the  people  was  striking.  Every  one  whom  we  saw  seemed 
to  be  of  the  common  people  as  we  should  say,  but  every 
one  seemed  to  have  some  place  in  life  and  to  be  fitted  into 


78  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

it.  We  saw  neither  beggars  nor  quasi-beggars,  nor  did 
any  faces  bear  those  dejected,  God-forsaken  looks  which 
stamp  so  many  countenances  seen  on  the  streets  of  L<on- 
don.  Nor  on  the  other  hand  did  we  see  those  restless,  keen, 
driving,  sharp  cut  lineaments  so  common  to  the  American 
faces.  The  children  were  plain,  but  clean,  rosy  and 
happy.  The  women  were  hard  working,  a  little  dogged 
looking  perhaps,  but  strong,  as  I  never  saw  women 
before.  It  filled  me  with  envy  to  see  them  take  their 
heavy  baskets  and  walk  off  with  such  a  strong,  buoyant 
step.  It  was  not  perhaps  the  gait  which  Mr.  Turvey- 
drop  would  strive  to  impart,  but  it  had  the  grace  of 
unconscious  strength. 

At  Rotterdam  we  did  not  make  a  long  tarry.  Neither 
heads  nor  stomachs  were  in  the  best  condition  to  see  or 
enjoy.  We  took  a  carriage  for  an  hour,  and  accompanied 
by  a  kind  of  Yankee  Dutch  boy,  who  pointed  out  the 
objects  of  interest  in  choice  Dutch  English,  rode  about 
the  city.  He  showed  us  "Mr.  Erasmus"  statue  and  the 
house  in  which  he  was  born;  he  pointed  out  to  us  the 
house  for  "young  children  who  have  lost  their  elders," 
and  some  other  points  of  interest.  At  twelve  we  left  for 
Amsterdam  where  a  ride  of  an  hour  brought  us,  and 
where  the  Bible  Hotel  opened  to  receive  us.  Our  first 
pilgrimage  was  made  to  the  Rijks  Museum,  a  new  pic- 
ture gallery  of  vast  proportions  and  noble  desig^.     I 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  79 

doubt  if  any  city  of  the  size  of  Amsterdam  can  boast  a 
gallery  so  fine  in  all  respects.  The  collection  of  paintings 
is  vast  and  particularly  rich  in  the  works  of  Dutch  artists, 
chief  of  whom  of  course  is  Rembrandt.  Unfortunately 
the  historical  character  of  this  museum  has  introduced  a 
vast  number  of  inferior  works. 

Sunday  morning  we  started  to  find  the  Presbyterian 
church.  By  the  help  of  Baedeker  and  the  three  languages 
more  or  less  at  our  command  we  expected  an  easy  victory. 
But  we  wandered  about,  and  finally  found  our  way  in 
through  a  back  alley  where  we  heard  the  final  words  of 
the  discourse.  Before  going  home  from  church  we  went 
to  a  little  gallery  which  holds  the  famous  picture 
of  Ary  Scheffer's,  known  as  Christus  Consolator.  The 
picture  disappointed  us.  I^ike  Hamlet,  with  Hamlet  left 
out,  it  was  Consolator  without  the  Christ.  His  face 
expressed  but  little. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  in  letter  writing  and  in  the 
evening  we  went  out  to  see  the  city  as  it  appeared  on  a 
Sunday  evening.  Everyone  was  out,  happy,  enjoying 
himself,  yet  nothing  boisterous  or  rude.  Everything  was 
decorous.  It  is  evident  the  religious  life  of  the  people, 
as  we  count  religious  life,  is  weak,  and  Sunday  is  very 
little  observed.  The  few  Sunday  shops  were  doubtless 
those  of  Jews,  of  whom  Amsterdam  has  a  large  number. 


8o  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

The  oldest  city — L,eyden — of  Holland  seemed  like  an 
Amsterdam  on  a  small  scale.  Its  University  of  seven 
hundred  pupils  has  little  to  show  for  itself,  since  the  stu- 
dents have  rooms  in  the  town  and  receive  much  of  their 
instruction  at  the  houses  of  the  professors.  What  there 
was  to  see  we  saw,  however.  In  the  church  of  the 
town  rests  the  body  of  the  great  John  Robinson,  the  good 
John  Robinson.  In  the  house  close  by  he  lived  and 
worked  for  many  years.  It  seemed  strange,  at  this  little 
Dutch  town,  to  stand  at  the  grave  of  one,  who,  without 
ever  being  in  New  England,  influenced  so  potently  New 
England  life  and  character.  We  fancied  that  the  Pil- 
grims did  not  leave  Holland  entirely  free  from  the  influ- 
ence of  their  Dutch  neighbors.  A  certain  ugliness  in 
the  churches  seemed  strangely  familiar. 

We  reached  the  Hague  in  the  first  of  the  afternoon 
and  soon  made  our  way  to  the  picture  gallery.  Here  we 
found  the  most  wonderful  of  Rembrandt's  pictures  which 
we  have  yet  seen.  An  Anatomical  Lecture.  The  triumph 
of  life  over  death  is  most  remarkable.  There,  too,  is  Paul 
Potter's  famous  Bull, — a  wonderful  animal,  but  hardly  so 
wonderful  to  us  as  to  his  masters.  This  gallery  was 
choice,  nearly  every  picture  having  merit  of  its  own. 

The  Binnenhof,  a  low,  irregular  brick  structure, 
ancient  and  hoary,  which  served  for  Parliament  House 
and  government  offices,  next  claimed  our  attention.    The 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  8i 

rooms  of  state  were  somewhat  fine,  and  that  fitted  up 
with  a  certain  magnificence  by  William  III.  was  of  special 
interest,  because  in  it  the  articles  of  the  treaty  of  Ryswick 
were  agreed  upon.  In  trying  to  find  the  chambers  of 
the  States  General  we  invaded  a  doughty  Dutchman  in 
his  lair  and  were  ignominiously  shown  the  way  out. 
Some  way  royalty  appears  very  cheap  in  Holland  in  com- 
parison with  England.  No  red  -  coated  soldiers  with 
bushy  hats  and  bristling  bayonets  guard  these  precincts, 
and  no  notices  even  are  posted  that  ' '  packages  are  not 
admitted."  The  palace,  which  we  saw  from  the  outside, 
is  a  plain  cream- colored  building  without  great  preten- 
sions. These  Dutch  are  thrifty  fellows  and  do  not  mean 
to  squander  much  on  Kings. 

A  pleasant  little  variety  was  added  to  our  day  b5^  an  eve- 
ning trip  to  Scheveningen,  a  fashionable  watering-place. 
With  the  setting  sun  and  rising  moon  and  the  music  and 
crowds  of  gaily  dressed  people,  the  scene  was  very  pictur- 
esque and  attractive.  It  reminded  me  of  a  picture  in  the 
Corcoran  Art  Gallery,  at  Washington,  which  I  think 
must  delineate  this  place.  The  wicker  booth  chairs  were 
a  new  and  pretty  feature  of  seaside  life. 

Tuesday  morning  we  visited  Delft,  not  the  Delfs- 
haven  of  the  Pilgrims.  Like  Amsterdam  and  Leyden  it 
seemed  a  busy,  work-a-day  town.  The  Hague  has  not 
so  much  this  appearance.     The  monument  to  the  Prince 


83  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

of  Orange,  over  his  grave  in  the  Nieuwe  Kerk,  and  the 
Prinsenhof,  where  he  was  killed,  were  the  chief  points  of 
interest.  Brave,  true,  patriotic  man,  it  was  a  joy  to  stand 
upon  his  grave  and  pay  homage  to  his  memory.  Few 
grander  things  are  in  history  than  his  order  to  pierce  the 
dykes.  The  figures  of  justice,  prudence,  religion,  lib- 
erty, upon  his  monument  seemed  wonderfully  fitted  to 
express  his  character.  It  was  on  the  canals  between  The 
Hague  and  Delft  that  we  saw  the  women  drawing  canal 
boats.  The  house  where  Spinoza  lived  and  a  statue  re- 
cently erected  to  him  claimed  our  attention  on  our  walk 
home  after  leaving  the  car. 

On  our  arrival  at  Antwerp  we  found  that, 
owing  to  the  International  Exposition,  the  city 
was  much  crowded,  and  at  one  time  we  feared 
lest  we  should  not  be  able  to  find  a  bed.  A  modest  little 
house,  Hotel  Holland,  clean  and  neat,  however,  finally 
opened  its  doors  to  us.  Mine  host  proved  a  genial  fellow, 
and  on  the  whole  we  did  not  regret  the  necessity  which 
brought  us  to  his  doors.  The  day  was  too  far  spent  for 
much  sight  seeing,  but  in  the  evening  we  rode  to  the  Ex- 
position, which  resembled  all  other  expositions.  The 
exhibit  of  lace  so  fascinated  me,  however,  that  I  could 
have  lingered  hours  by  it. 

The  early  morning  found  us  on  our  way  to  the  Museum 
of  Pictures.     The  walk  along  the  beautiful  docks,  built 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  83 

and  maintained  at  great  expense,  was  interesting.  We 
see  signs  of  being  in  another  country,  although  the 
Dutch  and  Flemish  element  seems  to  predominate.  Yet 
French  is  the  language  spoken,  and  in  that  tongue  we 
made  our  way  about.  I  found  my  vernacular  French  a 
good  deal  rusted  after  its  ten  years  of  disuse,  but  it  is 
coming  rapidly  back.  Railroad  nomenclature  I  never 
learned,  and  the  necessary  inquiries  at  the  stations  are 
proving  puzzling. 

At  the  Antwerp  Museum  we  had  an  opportunity  to 
study  Rubens  at  his  best.  The  life,  the  action,  of  Ru- 
bens' masterpieces  are  wonderful.  In  these  remarkable 
qualities  we  have  seen  no  picture  to  compare  with  the 
Crucifixion  in  the  Antwerp  Gallery.  The  figures  are 
few,  and  each  expresses  intense  activity,  all  bending  to  a 
unity  of  purpose.  Here  was  not  the  Mater  Dolorosa, 
but  the  Mater  Dolens,  not  the  sorrowful  but  the  sorrow- 
ing mother.  It  was  the  first  of  Rubens'  masterpieces 
which  we  saw,  and  may  have  so  filled  us  that  we  have  no 
room  left  properly  to  estimate  the  others.  But  certain  it 
is,  that  the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  which  we  studied 
long  at  the  Cathedral,  will  not  linger  in  our  minds  as 
will  the  Crucifixion.  Van  Dyke's  treatment  of  the  Cru- 
cifixion and  Entombment  seemed  a  bit  cold  beside  Ru- 
bens'. I  often  wonder  why  so  many  great  artists  choose 
to  delineate  the  horrible,  particularly  as  connected  with 


84  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

religion.  I  was  fairly  sickened  by  the  pictures  of  hor- 
rors which  the  Museum  presented,  and  felt  that  our 
Blessed  I^ord  had  been  blasphemed  in  the  execrable 
paintings  in  which  profane  hands  had  delineated  his  suf- 
ferings. We  are  now  in  a  Catholic  country,  and  do  not 
fail  to  see  it. 

From  the  Museum  we  turned  toward  the  Exposition, 
to  see  the  exhibition  of  Beaux  Arts.  It  is  something  of  an 
education  simply  to  wander  through  these  long-  galleries 
and  to  look  at  the  wonderful  productions  of  man's  skill. 
It  was  interesting  also  to  compare  the  styles  of  art  of  the 
different  countries.  In  none  was  striking  originality 
manifest.  The  French  style  of  half  tints  predominated 
in  the  greater  part  of  the  paintings.  Modern  art  seems 
to  me  as  perfect  in  its  execution,  as  exact  a  representa- 
tive of  nature  in  form  and  coloring  as  the  ancient,  but  it 
satisfies  itself  with  too  trivial  subjects,  and  fails  to  move 
because  failing  to  present  any  great  thought  or  feeling. 
A  picture,  like  a  sermon  or  poem,  must  have  a  subject 
which,  independent  of  its  execution,  will  move  and  in- 
spire. The  Russian  exhibit  interested  us,  and  seemed  to 
possess  power  and  originality.  One  picture  in  the  Belgian 
exhibit  (The  I^ast  Day  of  Pompeii)  and  one  in  the  Aus- 
trian (The  Condemnation  of  Mars)  live  with  us. 

The  church  at  Antwerp  (Notre  Dame)  presented  no 
striking   features  in   architecture,  and   was  of   interest 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  85 

chiefly  because  of  Rubens'  masterpieces  which  I  have 
before  alluded  to.  It  was  our  first  Catholic  church,  and 
was  filled  with  images,  altars,  pictures  and  trappings  to 
which  we  are  unaccustomed.  They  seemed  so  cheap  and 
tawdry,  often  so  revolting.  I  trust  they  serve  to  draw 
some  souls  nearer  our  Blessed  Lord. 

From  Antwerp,  which  we  left  at  five  fifty-six,  to 
Brussels,  we  traveled  in  a  most  uncomfortable  car,  half 
American,  half  English,  losing  the  comforts  of  each. 
Smoking  was  indulged,  and  I  had  to  breathe  it  in.  Oh,  if 
it  were  only  true  that  smoking  breeds  cancers  ! 

Brussels,  27  August. 
In  Belgium's  capital!  And  it  seems  as  if  even  now 
were  gathered  here  a  kingdom's  beauty  and  chivalry. 
Such  a  different  city  from  the  work-a-day  Dutch  towns! 
Youth  and  pleasure  here  seem  to  meet,  and  on  every  side 
are  pleasure's  ministers.  Art  and  nature,  the  beautiful 
in  form,  in  architecture,  all  are  here  to  delight  the  eyes. 
The  drives  are  full,  the  parks  are  full,  and  the  workers 
only  seem  to  work  to  minister  to  the  seeker  of  beauty 
and  pleasure.  The  windows  are  full  of  laces,  of  gems,  of 
painting,  to  tempt  the  beholder.  The  squares  and  parks 
are  adorned  with  flowers  and  statues  to  Belgian  heroes. 
The  Palais  de  Justice  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
specimens  of  modern  architecture.     Like  our  own  beau- 


86  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

tiful  Capitol,  it  rises  upon  a  slight  eminence  at  the  end 
of  one  of  the  principal  avenues  of  the  city.  It  is  so  mag- 
nificent as  almost  to  satiate.  Down  in  the  valley  is  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  a  fine  Gothic  building  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  and  a  grand  specimen  of  the  secular  art  which 
flourished  in  the  Netherlands,  and  of  which  England  has 
hardly  a  trace.  The  Square  of  the  Petit  Sablon  is  a  de- 
lightful little  spot.  A  little  garden  in  which  stands  a 
statue  of  Counts  Egmont  and  Hoom,  on  their  way  to 
execution,  is  surrounded  by  a  paling  on  the  pilasters  of 
which  are  small  brazen  statues  representing  the  trades  of 
Belgium.  The  boulevards  are  broad,  forming  a  complete 
circuit  of  the  city.     Everything  is  French. 

In  going  to  Waterloo  we  took  the  steam  train  to 
Braine  I'Alleud,  and  thence  an  omnibus  to  the  center  of 
the  field.  The  two  hours  on  the  field  allowed  us  to  visit 
but  few  of  the  spots  of  interest,  but  with  our  guide  and 
books  the  short  time  was  enough  to  gain  an  excellent  idea 
of  the  proceedings  of  that  awful  day.  Pray  God  such 
scenes  may  never  be  repeated  on  the  green  earth  that  He 
has  made!  Nothing  seems  to  me  so  monstrous  as  war, 
and  it  is  a  constant  marvel  that  it  has  survived  eighteen 
Christian  centuries.  We  saw  some  sights  on  our  ride  to 
the  battle  field  strange  to  our  American  eyes.  I^ittle  chil- 
dren followed  our  bus  for  a  mile  begging  for  pennies.  The 
women  were  hoeing  and  raking  in  the  fields,  and  one  we 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  87 

saw  shoveling  manure.     After  dinner  we  went  out  walk- 
ing, and  found  much  to  enjoy  in  the  beautiful  city. 

Friday  morning  we  went  out  lace  hunting.  It  was 
a  wonder  we  did  not  spend  all  our  money  on  the  fascinat- 
ing stuff.  We  bought  all  our  consciences  would  allow, 
and  yearned  for  less  Puritan  consciences.  It  was  hard 
for  me  even  to  turn  my  steps  to  the  Museum  of  Paintings, 
and  I  found  that  among  its  treasures  my  busy  mind  re- 
verted to  the  fabrics  of  loveliness  that  my  eyes  had  seen. 
This  gallery  is  rich  in  specimens  of  every  type  of  Flem- 
ish art.  Two  pictures  by  Thomas,  Judas  and  Barabbas, 
struck  us  as  original  in  conception  and  powerful  in  exe- 
cution. Gallait's  Abdication  of  Charles  V.  was  a  fine 
picture,  yet  open  to  some  criticism.  Early  art  does  not 
interest  me,  still  Van  Eyck's  Adam  and  Eve  were  inter- 
esting. The  Hotel  de  Ville  received  a  flying  visit.  The 
tapestries  were  the  best  we  have  yet  seen.  One  of  the 
large  salles,  we  were  told,  was  the  place  of  the  ball  given 
by  the  Duchess  of  Richmond  on  the  eve  of  Waterloo. 
This  I  think  is  a  mistake.  We  took  a  carriage  to  the  Place 
of  Martyrs,  thence  round  the  Cathedral  to  the  Palace  of 
Nations  or  the  Capitol,  as  we  should  say.  The  legislative 
hall  of  the  upper  chamber  is  a  gem.  Exquisite  carvings 
and  the  portraits  of  all  the  Belgian  monarchs  from  Charle 
magne  to  I^eopold,  by  Gallait,  noble  works  of  art, 
adorn  it.  The  various  committee  rooms,  foreign  relations, 


88  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

etc. ,  were  arranged  and  decorated  with  great  taste  and  ele- 
gance. A  dinner,  an  evening  walk  finished  the  day,  and 
it  was  with  real  regret  that  we  made  our  preparations  for 
leaving  Brussels  and  the  Netherlands.  Particularly  did 
we  regret  to  part  with  the  friendly  porter  of  the  Hotel 
de  France,  whose  kindly  smile  sped  us  on  our  way  and 
welcomed  us  back  from  our  wanderings.  The  European 
porter  is  an  institution,  a  universal  genius,  who  knows 
everything  and  can  talk  all  languages,  and  is  always 
ready  for  a  fee.  It  hurt  my  feelings  to  give  so  learned 
and  urbane  an  individual  a  paltry  franc.  We  are  glad 
to  go  to  hotels  where  English  is  spoken.  I  find  it  quite  a 
little  strain  to  carry  on  negotiations  in  French,  with  the 
possibilities  of  not  always  understanding  and  being  un- 
derstood. But  my  French  has  been  a  good  deal  brushed 
up  for  two  days'  wear,  and  by  the  time  I  get  to  Paris  I 
hope  to  become  quite  fluent.  Going  from  French  to 
German  is  a  little  confusing. 

Saturday  morning,  at  nine-forty,  we  left  for  Cologne, 
which,  with  a  stop  of  two  hours  at  Aix  la  Chapelle, 
proved  a  day's  journey.  The  journey  we  rather  en- 
joyed. It  was  restful,  and  gave  us  some  opportunities 
for  reading  and  seeing  the  country  and  people.  The 
only  reason  for  stopping  at  Aix  was  to  visit  the  church 
built  by  Charlemagne,  where  he  was  buried,  and  where 
for  eight  hundred  years  after  him  the  German  Emperors 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  89 

were  crowned.  Here  for  the  first  time  we  met  Catholic 
superstition.  We  paid  three  marks  for  viewing  relics, 
some  of  them  intrinsically  interesting  for  their  richness, 
but  more  sad  and  revolting.  I  could  bear  a  link  of  St. 
Peter's  chain,  or  a  tooth  of  St.  Thomas,  but  when  a  man 
pretends  to  show  me  a  bit  of  the  shroud  of  our  I,ord, 
and  the  rope  which  tied  His  blessed  body  to  the  cross, 
I  shrink  and  tremble  with  the  horror  of  the  desecration. 
The  marble  chair  of  the  Emperors,  I  presume,  is 
veritable.  It  may  also  be  that  we  saw  the  leg  bone  of 
Charlemagne,  since  his  body  was  disinterred  within  his- 
toric times.  But  one  could  but  feel  suspicious.  The  archi- 
tecture of  the  building  was  as  interesting  as  the  relics. 

In  Aix  la  Chapelle,  or  Aachen,  we  were  in  Ger- 
many. The  burly  custom  ofiicer  who  examined  our  bag- 
gage, or,  rather,  did  not  examine  it,  was  German.  The 
ticket  examiner,  who  nearly  frightened  me  out  of  my 
wits,  was  also  German.  The  men  who  smoked  in  the 
waiting  room  were  German,  all  were  German.  /  donH 
like  them. 

The  smells  of  Cologne  did  not  strike  us  all  at  once. 
The  first  we  detected  were  in  our  room,  which  we  tried 
to  analyze  in  vain,  but  finally  we  referred  them  to  the  soap 
with  which  the  bedding  was  washed.  And  such  a  bed  ! 
Feather  bed  beneath,  feather  bed  above,  the  whole 
mountain   high.     It   did   not   look    attractive.     Sunday 


90  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

morning  we  discovered  other  smells.     Surface  draining 
and  sausage  were  the  principal  ones. 

Sundays  spent  in  traveling  are  not  what  Sundays  ought 
to  be,  and  a  Sunday  in  Germany  is  quite  different  from  a 
Sunday  in  England.  Shops  are  open,  streets  are  full, 
and  all  is  gayety,  even  to  card-playing.  It  was  very 
pleasant  to  find  our  way  into  a  bit  of  an  English  chapel, 
very  pleasant  to  join  in  the  "God  Lord  deliver  us"  of  the 
I/itany.  From  so  many  things  have  we  need  to  be 
delivered!  The  clergyman  read  the  service  slowly  with 
a  strong  German  accent,  and  never  has  it  seemed  more 
impressive.  From  this  service  we  went  to  the  Cathedral. 
It  reached  our  expectation.  Grand,  vast,  almost  misty 
in  its  distances,  it  stretches  up  and  away,  a  very  Gloria  in 
Excelsis  in  stone.  In  it  we  were  also  treated  to  more 
relics,  the  last  I  think  I  shall  give  a  sou  for  seeing. 
The  rest  of  the  day  I  passed  in  my  room.  We  find  our- 
selves comfortable  and  have,  so  far,  liked  the  German 
table  better  than  the  English.  The  waiter  here  is  most 
agreeable  and  astonished  us  beyond  measure  by  greeting 
us  with  "holloa"  upon  going  to  breakfast.  That  is 
English  as  she  is  spoke  in  Germany. 

Gbnkva,  6  September. 
A  week  of  rapid  travel  finds  us  for  our  Sabbath  in 
this  city  of  Calvin.     In   it  we  have  seen  few  of  the 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  91 

wonders  of  man's  making,  but  our  eyes  have  been  filled 
with  the  glories  of  God's  universe.  Monday  was  our 
day  on  the  Rhine.  We  went  on  board  the  little  steamer 
at  seven  and  left  it  late  in  the  afternoon  at  St.  Goar 
for  the  train,  which  brought  us  to  Mayence.  As  far  as 
Bonn  the  sail  was  uninteresting;  from  Bonn  to  Coblentz 
it  compared  very  well  with  Dead  River.  But  between 
Coblentz  and  St.  Goar  its  crags  and  peaks,  its  castles 
and  vine-clad  hills,  justified  its  renown.  I  began  to  feel 
my  ignorance  of  history.  To  the  German,  its  banks  and 
castles  are  as  full  of  poetry,  romance  and  chivalry  as  the 
banks  of  the  Dee  or  the  crags  of  Scotland. 

The  city  of  Worms,  made  famous  by  the  brave  posi- 
tion of  lyUther,  is  not  unmindful  of  the  lustre  shed  upon 
itself  by  the  great  reformer.  A  bronze  statue,  or  rather 
monument,  of  elegant  design  and  strong  and  vigorous 
execution  is  raised  to  his  memory  in  one  of  the  principal 
squares  of  the  town.  The  house  no  longer  stands  where 
met  the  famous  Diet,  but  to  the  spot,  now  occupied  by 
a  fine  private  residence,  we  made  a  pilgrimage.  Charles 
walked  about  the  town,  which  had  only  such  interest  as  a 
foreign  town  always  possesses  in  the  eyes  of  a  stranger. 
While  I  waited  for  him  in  a  picture  store  I  listened  to  a 
vigorous  dispute  between  three  or  four  young  men  upon 
some  political  matter.  It  was  the  day  before  the  anniver- 
sary of  Sedan  and  the  military  spirit  was  aroused.      All 


92  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

these  young  fellows  spoke  English  well.  It  is  really 
mortifying  to  find  how  well  these  Germans  speak  English. 
Our  country  is  most  unfavorably  situated  for  acquiring  a 
foreign  tongue. 

We  continued  our  journey  to  Strassburg,  where  we 
had  all  too  short  a  time  to  inspect  the  glories  of  the 
Cathedral  and  the  interests  of  the  city.  I  should  have 
been  glad  to  drive  about  the  fortifications  of  the 
town,  which  are  in  the  most  perfect  style  of  modem 
warfare.  It  is  said  that  every  vestige  of  that  cruel  siege 
has  disappeared,  but  the  scenes  were  very  fresh  to  me  in 
both  memory  and  imagination.  I  had  just  been  reading 
the  Memoir  and  Letters  of  the  Princess  Alice  and  I  could 
but  reflect  that  the  agony  she  endured  and  which  her 
letters  describe,  was  no  more  than  that  of  every  wife  and 
mother  whose  dear  ones  were  enlisted  on  either  losing  or 
winning  side.  How  I  hate  war  !  More  and  more  are  its 
pomp  and  circumstance  distasteful.  Germany,  I  can  see, 
is  hardly  more  than  a  vast  arsenal.  Troops  are  recruited 
and  drilled  much  as  they  were  with  us  during  the  years 
'61-65.  We  saw,  at  Cologne,  a  thousand  men  marching 
to  drill.  At  Mayence  are  stationed  eight  thousand  men,  at 
Metz  fourteen  thousand.  Almost  equal  to  our  whole  army ! 
The  Cathedral  at  Strassburg  was  a  surprise.  The  wonders 
of  its  clock  have  been  allowed  to  eclipse  the  glories  of  its 
architecture.     It   is  singularly  beautiful.     Its  stone,  a 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  93 

reddish  brown,  was  a  pleasing  relief  to  the  stone-grey 
in  which  all  the  Cathedrals  we  have  before  seen,  have 
been  built.  Its  decoration  without  is  peculiarly  rich  and 
delicate.  A  statue  of  Gutenberg,  and  the  house  where 
the  first  printing  was  done,  completed  the  wonders  which 
our  limited  time  allowed  us  to  see.  It  was  eleven  o'clock 
when  we  reached  Basle  and  we  were  too  tired  and  sleepy 
to  be  very  critical  of  the  accommodations  offered  by 
The  Crown.  Our  beds  were  clean,  and  that  is  the  first 
thing.  The  river  Rhine,  directly  in  front  of  the  house, 
went  rushing,  roaring  by,  as  if  just  let  loose  from  its 
mountain  home.  Before  going  to  the  station  we  rode 
for  a  half  an  hour  about  the  town.  It  is  essentially  a 
German  city. 

We  arrived  in  Berne  a  little  after  one  o'clock  and  at 
once  took  a  carriage  for  a  quick  inspection  of  the  city. 
We  drove  to  the  banker's  for  letters,  but  as  he  was  out  we 
took  our  ride  first.  The  city  is  beautifully  situated 
upon  the  banks  of  the  lake  and  built  upon  an  abrupt 
height.  The  distant  Alps  are  in  full  view,  and  in  winding 
about  among  the  tortuous  narrow  streets  one  constantly 
finds  glorious  views  bursting  upon  himself.  We  had  our 
first  view  of  the  Alps  from  the  cars.  L,ike  clear  blocks  of 
solid,  polished  quartz  they  towered  into  heaven  far  above 
the  clouds.  The  Cathedral,  Protestant  Calvinistic,  was 
inferior  in  beauty  and  interest  to  most  buildings  bearing 


94  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

the  name.  The  city  itself  we  found  picturesque,  re- 
minding us  in  some  ways  of  Edinburgh.  The  buildings 
of  some  of  the  old  streets  were  not  unlike  the  rows  of 
Chester.  The  second  story,  however,  was  built  out  over 
the  sidewalk  and  was  not  a  second  story  of  street.  Our 
driver,  who  was  anxious  to  make  the  time  as  long  as 
possible,  insisted  upon  taking  us  across  the  river  to  the 
bear  gardens.  These  pits  were  very  large  and  of  stone, 
quite  eclipsing  those  of  the  London  Zoo.  Only  two  of 
the  six  bruins  consented  to  appear.  Our  last  visitation  at 
Berne  was  made  to  the  Bundes  Rath  House  (the  Capitol). 
It  was  a  building  simple  in  adornment,  but  well  fitted  for 
its  purpose.  From  the  roof  we  had  a  magnificent  view  of 
the  city  and  distant  Alps. 

The  half  past  six  train  brought  us  to  Interlaken 
about  ten.  The  sail  across  Lake  Thun  in  the  solemn 
stillness  of  the  night,  under  the  shadows  of  the  towering 
mountain,  was  soothing  to  soul  and  body.  It  is  strange 
to  me  that  foul  deeds  stalk  abroad  at  night.  Then,  to  me, 
is  conscience  most  keenly  awake,  passion  most  still,  and 
God  most  near.  This  sail  and  the  sail  down  the  Rhine 
were  very  rich  in  reminiscences  of  by-gone  times.  In  my 
mind  the  German  ballads  learned  so  long  ago,  some 
almost  forgotten,  came  to  life  again.  The  old  college 
days  and  the  old  college  friends  seemed  nearer  than  for 
years.     Lines  of  German  poetry,  scenes  of  Wilhelm  Tell, 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  95 

came  trooping  up  and  made  the  rocks  and  hills  peopled 
and  alive. 

Interlaken  seems  all  hotels  and  fancy  shops.  The 
Jungfrau  received  us.  The  morning  light  revealed 
to  us  the  beauty  of  our  situation.  Directly  in  front, 
bathed  with  the  morning  radiance,  towered  the  massive 
whiteness  of  the  hoary  Jungfrau.  How  it  glistened  and 
gleamed  in  the  light,  an  opal  in  emerald  setting!  We 
were  impatient  of  breakfast  and  eager  to  be  away.  The 
air  was  intoxicating,  like  the  air  of  our  native  mountains, 
and,  but  for  the  snowy,  distant  summits,  we  could  well 
imagine  ourselves  in  the  mountains  of  Maine.  In  the 
Jungfrau  we  thought  we  detected  a  resemblance  in  form 
to  Old  Blue.  We  had  not  walked  long  before  we  found 
the  glories  of  nature  eclipsed  by  the  glories  of  the  shops. 
Swiss  carvings  proved  too  great  an  attraction,  and  before 
we  left  the  shop  we  had  well-nigh  emptied  our  purses. 
The  bears,  too,  were  fascinating;  carved  bears  in  every 
variety  of  size  and  occupation. 

We  engaged  an  amiable  charioteer  and  a  somewhat 
dilapitated  chariot  to  take  us  to  Lauterbrunnen,  and  the 
ride  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  As  we  wound 
about  among  the  mountains,  the  more  distant  silver- 
covered  summits  seemed  to  play  hide  and  seek  with  the 
green  heights  of  the  nearer  mountains.  The  castellated 
crags  springing  like  titan  pillars  a  thousand  feet  toward 


96  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

the  sky;  the  rushing  gray-green  waters  of  the  glacial  river; 
the  green  pastures  and  picturesque  chalets;  the  clear  sky 
and  the  fresh  air,  all  seemed  like  the  wonders  of  the 
promised  land.  The  little  village  at  Lauterbrunnen,  a 
mere  straggling  row  of  houses,  offered  many  tempting 
objects  to  our  views.  Outside  the  women  sat  making 
lace,  and  the  men  carving  stone  figures.  It  was 
strange  to  find,  in  one  house,  that  German  only  was 
spoken,  while  at  the  next,  French  was  alone  understood. 

A  pretty  walk  of  half  an  hour  led  us  to  the 
Staubbach  which  leaps  hundreds  of  feet  off  the 
rocky  mountain  side  to  the  meadow  below.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  returned  to  Interlaken, 
and  writing  letters  and  dinner  brought  us  to  the  setting 
sun.  Walks  and  inspection  of  the  shop-windows  con- 
sumed the  evening. 

The  journey  to  Geneva  occupied  all  of  Friday.  We 
retraced  our  way  to  Berne  and  by  rail  to  lyausanne.  At 
that  point  our  plan  had  been  to  take  the  boat  across  the 
lake,  but  the  rain  of  the  day  prevented  and  we  finished 
our  journey  by  rail.  The  views  were  fine,  and  the 
bursting  of  the  clouds  and  the  succession  of  showers, 
followed  by  a  rainbow,  diversified  the  landscape,  which 
in  itself  was  wonderfully  beautiful.  Yet  when  the 
distant  Alps  are  out  of  view,  it  would  not  be  hard  to 
fancy  myself  at  home,  so  similar  are  the  veiws.     There 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  97 

is,  however,  a  peculiar  abruptness  to  these  mountains. 
They  do  not  seem  to  have  been  finished  up  and  polished 
ofiF  as  carefully  as  ours.  The  lights  and  shadows,  as 
they  play  upon  the  hillsides  and  valleys,  are  wonderful. 

At  first  Geneva  did  not  strike  me  pleasantly,  but  its 
charms  gradually  grew  upon  me.  All  Saturday  morning 
we  climbed  up  and  down  its  steep  and  narrow  streets, 
and  wound  in  and  out  their  tortuous  ways.  To  many  it 
seemed  difl&cult  to  find  either  entrance  or  exit.  Every 
few  minutes  one  is  brought  up  against  some  high  wall, 
and  on  searching  for  an  egress  finds  it  a  dark  and  winding 
stairway,  or  through  some  archway  enters  into  a  broad 
place.  The  Cathedral,  the  Museum,  the  University  were 
the  points  of  public  interest  which  we  saw. 

In  the  afternoon  we  had  an  experience.  We  took 
the  omnibus  for  Fernex,  a  small  suburb  over  the 
boundary  of  France,  and  which  was  founded  by 
Voltaire.  The  omnibus  was  filled  with  market  women 
returning  home,  and  very  merry  was  the  clatter  of  the 
tongues.  It  gave  us  a  touch  of  real  life.  Yet  that  is  not 
wanting.  So  much  of  the  life  here  is  out  of  doors.  The 
streets  are  filled  with  women  selling  their  produce,  and 
filling  their  water  jars  at  the  public  fountains  which 
abound.  At  Berne  we  saw  women  doing  their  washing 
at  the  basins  in  the  streets,  and  here  we  see  what  seem  to 


98  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

be  public  lavatories,  where  women  bring  their  clothes 
and  wash  in  the  running  water. 

The  chateau,  built  by  Voltaire,  still  stands,  and  is  a 
charming  country  place.  From  the  terrace  a  fine  view  is 
gained.  Two  of  the  rooms  remain  as  he  left  them,  his 
parlor  and  sleeping  room.  In  the  parlor  is  a  tomb, 
where  the  heart  of  the  great  scoffer  is  buried.  We  left 
with  a  kindlier  feeling  for  this  prince  of  sceptics, 
after  seeing  the  church  he  built  for  the  people  of  Femex. 

A  Sunday  at  Geneva  and  in  the  house  of  Calvin  is 
hardly  kept  with  Puritanical  strictness.  On  our  way  to 
church  we  met  people  evidently  off  for  picnics,  and  the 
marching  and  band-playing  were  not  like  Sunday.  Yet 
most  shops  are  closed  and  the  streets  decorous.  We 
found  a  little  American  Episcopal  chapel,  where  we 
worshiped  with  some  eighty  others.  It  was  a  blessed 
privilege  to  receive  the  sacrament  in  this  foreign  land. 
The  same  God,  the  same  Savior,  the  same  faith. 

Lucerne,   12  September. 

A  seven  o'clock  start  upon  Monday  morning,  5th 
September,  brought  us  to  Chamounix  at  a  little  before  four. 
The  morning  was  glorious  and  we  took  our  seats  in  the 
diligence  with  full  expectation  of  a  fine  day.  But  the 
fiend  was  there,  six  fiends  were  there,  and  by  a  strange 
co-incidence,  or  rather  fatality,  they  all  sat  in  front  of 
me.     It   was  awful.     One  fiend,  with  a  one-eyed  glass, 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  99 

smoked  two  pipes  and  five  cigars,  besides  drinking  two 
bottles  of  wine  at  dinner.  A  party  of  Americans  occupied 
the  seats  with  us.  They  had  a  courier;  and  of  all  insuffer- 
able, impertinent  appendages,  a  courier  seems  the  worst. 
Think  of  his  pufl&ng  a  cigar  into  the  ladies'  faces !  The  views, 
however,  were  fine.  The  immense,  towering  crags  and  over- 
hanging rocks,  as  well  as  the  distant  mountains,  formed 
a  wilder  and  bolder  scene  than  any  we  had  seen;  but 
while  at  dinner  at  Sallanches  a  hard  rain  set  in,  which 
neither  ceased  nor  lessened  until  we  were  in  Chamounix. 
Henceforth  we  were  in  a  box  filled  with  that  vile  smoke. 
I  became  thoroughly  sickened  and  poisoned. 

In  the  hard,  cold  rain  there  seemed  little  to  do  but  to 
be  comfortable.  A  fire  in  the  reading  room  of  the 
Angleterre  aided  us  in  this  endeavor.  From  the  window 
we  could  occasionally  catch  in  the  rift  of  the  clouds  a 
view  of  the   monarch  mountain,  at  whose  base  we  were. 

The  morning  of  Tuesday  seemed  little  propitious  for 
Alpine  climbing.  Clouds  gathered  and  let  fall  a  few 
drops  of  rain  and  then  parted  to  show  us  the  sun.  It  was 
the  opinion  of  wiseacres  that  by  eleven  all  would  be 
clear.  A  little  before  ten  we  thought  it  wise  to  venture 
up  Montanvert  to  the  "Mer  de  Glace."  We  accord- 
ingly ordered  a  guide  and  a  mule  for  myself,  Charles 
walking.  My  position  on  the  back  of  the  mule  seemed 
somewhat  precarious,  and  it  was  only  the  knowledge  that 


loo  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

what  had  been  done  could  be  done,  which  kept  me  on 
while  the  animal  toiled  over  perpendicular  precipices. 
I  had  an  idea  that  mules  were  given  to  kicking  and  I  was 
possessed  of  a  subdued  terror  lest  Rossa  employ  his  heels 
in  a  surreptitious  manner,  and  the  problem  of  where  I 
should  land  occupied  my  leisure  moments.  The  guide 
was  very  friendly,  and  kept  up  a  constant  stream  of  con- 
versation, all  in  French,  to  which  I  replied  as  best  I 
could  during  the  titillations  of  Rossa.  Half  way  up  we 
stopped  at  what  they  call  a  chalet.  I  never  knew  before 
just  what  a  chalet  is.  Our  word  shanty  is  derived  from 
it,  I  judge!  Here  we  had  the  pleasure  of  gazing  upon  a 
chamois  which  we  had  supposed  to  be  a  goat,  until  we  were 
requested  to  leave  20  centimes  for  having  looked  at  him. 
On  we  pushed,  the  guide  giving  us  all  kinds  of  induce- 
ments to  cross  the  Mer  de  Glace,  an  expedition  against 
which  I  was  firmly  set.  But  gradually  I  yielded.  The 
longer  I  sat  on  Rossa's  back  the  more  delightful  seemed 
the  prospect  of  climbing  fields  of  ice  upon  my  feet.  An 
inspection  of  the  Mer  from  the  hotel  at  Montanvert 
deepened  the  desire,  and  after  a  little  rest  and  luncheon 
we  started,  I  and  the  guide  ahead,  Charles  following. 
The  ice  fields  disappointed  me.  I  had  pictured  a  glacier 
as  a  huge  extent  of  rock  candy.  It  resembles  mere  dirty 
snow.  Yet  in  some  of  the  crevasses  was  seen  that  pe- 
culiar blue  tint  never  seen  in  anything  else,  unless  it 


CARRIE   F.  BUTLER  THWING.  loi 

might  be  in  a  huge  chrysoprase.  Once  across,  the  worst 
was  begun.  Over  rocks  and  streams  and  down  precipices 
in  steps  cut  in  solid  rock,  made  slippery  by  rain,  we  went. 
We  fixed  our  eyes  on  a  distant  white  rock,  and  measured 
with  our  eyes  every  inch  which  our  steps  lessened.  At 
last  the  chateau  and  a  shelter  from  the  rain,  which  had 
been  for  some  time  falling!  Fifteen  minutes  more  of 
easier  climbing,  and  we  see  Rossa's  ears  erect,  immov- 
able. The  going  down  was  worse  than  the  coming  up. 
Could  I  keep  on  ?  The  distance  over  his  head  was  short, 
but  Rossa  was  sure  -  footed,  and  soon  we  were  in  the 
highway.  The  rain  poured,  but  it  hurt  us  not.  Before 
six  we  were  in  our  rooms,  our  clothes  off  and  dressed 
again  for  supper. 

At  ten  o'clock  of  Wednesday  we  started  in  a  private 
carriage  for  Martigny.  The  said  private  carriage  seemed 
to  have  been  built  with  the  special  idea  of  racking  every 
bone  and  muscle  made  susceptible  by  Rossa.  The  first 
part  of  the  way  over  a  new  military  road  was  smooth,  but 
there  followed  two  miles,  in  process  of  making,  which  were 
intolerable.  The  road  wound  in  loops  back  and  forth,  up 
the  mountain  side,  past  the  glacier  Argentiere,  more  beau- 
tiful than  the  Mer  de  Glace,  over  rushing,  roaring  tor- 
rents, and  along  the  edges  of  precipices  to  the  Bete  Noire 
House,  in  the  Bete  Noire  pass.  Here  we  arrived  at  one 
o'clock  for  dinner,  and  here  the  horses,  which  had  hardly 


I02  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

left  a  walk  and  had  come  barely  three  miles  an  hour,  found 
it  necessary  "to  repose,"  as  the  coachman  said.  All 
day  long  the  sun  had  played  hide  and  seek,  and  now  the 
rain  began  in  earnest  and  hardl}'  abated  until  we  reached, 
somewhat  sore  and  stiff,  the  Hotel  du  Mont  Blanc,  at  Mar- 
tigny.  All  through  the  country  by  which  we  came  were 
scattered  those  miserable  little  houses,  usually  in  groups, 
which  seemed  the  abodes  of  want,  dirt  and  ignorance. 
Never  have  I  seen  civilized  people  who  impressed  me 
as  so  low  in  the  scale  of  being  as  these  Swiss  peasants. 
Pitiably  poor  was  everything  about  them.  The  women 
in  the  woods  breaking  off  dry  twigs  and  branches,  and 
carrying  them  home  in  loads  upon  their  backs  ;  the  low, 
miserable  huts,  which  on  one  side  served  as  house  and  on 
the  other  as  stable,  or,  worse  yet,  stable  below  and  house 
above,  seemed  wretched  beyond  description.  Yet  no 
village  was  without  its  chapel,  no  turn  in  the  road  with- 
out its  cross. 

The  ride  in  the  steamer  from  Bouveret  to 
Ouchy,  over  the  east  end  of  Lake  Leman,  was  grand 
yet  calming.  The  sun  was  setting  and  lighted  every 
part  of  the  landscape  with  that  radiance  only  seen  at 
sunset.  The  Dent  du  Midi  stood  up  boldly,  snow-capped 
and  sun-tipped.  The  bright  little  watering  places,  Vevay 
among  them,  and  the  Castle  of  Chillon,  all  were  full  of 
beauty  and  poetry,  the  poetry  of  life  and  the  poetry  of 
imagination. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  103 

Ouchy  was  delightful.  At  breakfast  we  watched 
the  white-capped  waves  of  blue  as  they  dashed  against 
the  wharves.  Apparently  they  came  in  with  great  fury, 
for  the  spray  was  thrown  at  times  twenty  feet  in  air. 

Friday,  September  nth,  we  spent  in  the  cars.  From 
Ouchy  to  I^ausanne  is  a  ride  of  less  than  a  mile  in  a  bus. 
The  day  proved  rainy,  a  fact  that  showed  the  wisdom  of 
our  decision  in  regard  to  the  Furka  pass.  We  reached 
I^ucerne  at  four  twenty-five,  and  found  a  home  at  St. 
Gotthard's  near  the  station.  After  tea  a  walk  in  the 
mist  showed  us  but  little  of  the  beauties  of  the  town, 
and  the  most  of  the  evening  we  spent  in  writing.  The 
town,  however,  is  most  beautiful  for  situation.  Upon  a 
bend  in  the  lake,  it  sweeps  about  it  in  a  crescent  form,  and 
embraces  in  its  extent  the  beauties  of  the  distant  mount- 
ains, rising  range  after  range  until  the  snow-capped  sum- 
mits blend  in  the  sky.  On  one  side  the  Rigi,  on  the 
other  the  Pilatus  stand  as  sentinels.  The  Pilatus,  in  its 
rugged  grandeur,  surpasses  any  mountain  I  have  seen. 

Saturday  morning  we  decided  to  attempt  the  Rigi, 
although  the  day  was  unpropitious.  No  rain  actually 
fell,  but  snow  had  fallen  upon  the  top  of  the  mountain, 
and  that  reduced  to  slush  made  going  about  quite  im- 
possible. But  the  ride  upon  the  lake  and  also  on  the 
railway  disclosed  beautiful  views.  To  me,  however,  the 
Lion  of  lyUcerne  was  the  attraction  of  the  town.     Three 


104  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

pilgrimages  I  made  to  his  solitary  resting  place,  and  was 
each  time  awed  by  his  pathetic  grandeur.  No  such  fitting 
monument,  I  am  sure,  has  ever  been  raised  to  human  he- 
roism. There  the  wounded  lion  rests  in  a  niche  in  the 
rock  of  the  eternal  mountains,  the  calm  water  at  his  feet, 
the  dark  woods  about  him,  one  paw  limp  and  lifeless, 
but  the  other,  with  the  tenacity  of  a  death  struggle, 
grasps  the  lilies  of  France.  I  shall  always  remember 
the  picture. 

A  walk  about  the  town  revealed  a  lack  of  the  gayety 
and  life  of  the  quays  and  hotels, — a  dense  German  popu- 
lation. 

On  Sunday  we  found  our  way  to  the  English  church, 
a  somewhat  pretentious  yet  fitting  house  of  worship. 
As  usual  the  sermon  was  of  a  low  order,  but  the  service 
was,  as  always,  enjoyable.  Few  things  so  impress  upon 
me  the  oneness  of  all  Christian  people  as  the  worship  in 
the  English  church  of  a  Continental  town.  It  was  an 
inspiration  to  sing  "Onward  Christian  Soldier,"  by  the 
Lake  of  Lucerne,  blending  our  voices  with  hundreds  of 
men  and  women,  all  of  different  lands  and  nations. 

An  early  start  was  necessary  on  Monday  morning  in 
order  that  we  might  sleep  in  Heidelberg.  The  journey, 
made  a  part  of  the  way  in  a  fast  train,  was  delightful. 
From  Basle,  where  we  changed  cars,  we  had  the  com- 
pany of  an  English  gentleman,  a  Colonel  in  the  army, 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  105 

and  his  wife.  He  proved  a  sociable  and  interesting  com- 
panion. The  great  interest  of  the  day  proved  to  be  the 
ride  through  the  Black  Forest,  where  the  cars  make  a  de- 
scent of  nineteen  hundred  feet  in  twenty-five  miles.  We 
wound  around  and  down,  sometimes  seeing  the  track 
over  which  we  were  to  pass  hundreds  of  feet  below  us  ; 
sometimes  seeing  that  over  which  we  had  come  quite  as 
far  above.  No  less  than  thirty-eight  tunnels  of  different 
lengths  were  passed  through.  At  Carlsruhe  an  American 
gentleman  and  lady,  from  California,  entered  our  carriage. 
They  were  bright  and  pleasant,  and  we  found  them 
again  at  our  hotel  at  Heidelberg.  The  man  presented  the 
phenomenon  of  a  man  without  a  language.  Born  in 
Cuba,  he  lived  there  until  some  eight  years  old,  and 
then  was  at  school  in  France  some  five  years.  He  then 
went  to  Heidelberg,  where  he  remained  until  about 
twenty,  and  then  went  to  the  United  States,  where  his 
last  ten  years  have  been  passed.  He  spoke  English  with 
a  marked  German  accent. 

The  Hotel  de  1' Europe  opened  hospitable  doors  to 
us  at  Heidelberg.  It  was  already  past  eight  when  we 
arrived,  and  bed  was  the  only  attraction.  But  early  in 
the  morning  we  began  our  explorations  of  the  town. 
For  the  casual  visitor  it  presents  little  besides  the  Uni- 
versity and  the  Schloss.  It  is,  of  course,  vacation 
in  the  university,  and  the  principal  building  in  the  cen- 


io6  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

ter  of  the  town  is  undergoing  repairs.  I  did  not  go  in, 
but  Charles  moved  round  among  the  rooms  and  library. 
It  was  necessary  to  take  a  carriage  for  the  Castle,  nine 
hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  town.  We  drove 
first  to  the  heights  above,  where  we  could  look  down 
upon  the  ruins  below,  magnificent  even  in  ruins.  The 
Ca.stle,  in  its  days  of  glory,  must  have  formed  a  city  in 
itself.  Belonging  to  a  later  day  than  any  of  the  ruined 
castles  of  England,  it  presents  many  beauties  of  archi- 
tecture. The  Otto  Heinrich's  castle  is  a  remarkably  fine 
specimen  of  Renaissance  architecture.  Alas,  my  knowl- 
edge of  German  history  proves  sadly  inadequate  for  the 
proper  appreciation  of  these  castles. 

The  day  proved  uncomfortably  warm,  and  after 
leaving  the  carriage  we  really  found  the  heat  oppressive. 
It  was  our  wish  to  see  the  room  where  the  students 
fight  their  duels,  and  for  this  purpose  we  were  obliged  to 
cross  the  Neckar.  In  the  upper  chamber  of  a 
modest  guest-house,  known  as  the  Hirsch,  the  silly 
boys  hack  at  each  other.  We  met  one  of  the  idiots  with 
a  dozen  or  more  gashes  in  his  face.  We  found  our  way 
back  to  the  hotel,  and,  taking  a  simple  dinner,  left  at 
four  o'clock  for  Frankfort. 

Frankfort  pleased  us  because,  in  its  newer  parts,  it 
resembles  an  American  city.  Our  walk  in  the  early 
evening  was  very  pleasant.     Our  hotel,  the  Swan — some- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  \<yj 

what  famous  as  being  the  place  where  the  Treaty  of 
Frankfort,  at  the  close  of  the  Franco- Prussian  war,  was 
signed — was  near  many  points  of  interest.  The  monu- 
ments of  Schiller,  Goethe  and  Gutenberg  are  impressive. 
We  took  the  horse  cars  a  little  before  eight,  and  soon 
found  ourselves  in  a  real  German  beer  garden.  It  was 
indeed  a  beautiful  spot.  I^ighted  by  hundreds  of  jets, 
the  water,  the  grass,  the  trees,  the  flowers,  all  looked  Uke 
fairy  land.  The  flowers  were  very  fine.  Great  beds  of 
calladiums,  of  cannas,  of  hydrangas,  of  coleas,  of  salvias, 
of  every  beautiful  foliage  or  flowering  plant,  were  ar- 
ranged in  charming  taste.  The  house,  the  former  pal- 
ace of  a  Prince  of  Nassau,  was  converted  into  refresh- 
ment rooms.  But  the  music  was  the  chief  attraction.  It 
was  of  a  light  order,  Strauss  and  the  like,  but  beauti- 
fully rendered  with  string  instruments. 

Charles  sat  up  late  arranging  a  perfect  plan  for 
sight-seeing  which  would  enable  us  to  take  the  twelve- 
forty  train  for  Weimar.  He  succeeded  admirably.  We 
left  the  house  promptly  at  eight,  and  proceeded  to  the 
Panorama  to  see  a  painting  of  the  Battle  of  Sedan. 
Upon  arrival  we  found  that  an  enterprising  Yankee  had 
transported  the  picture  to  America,  and  a  painting  of  the 
first  battle  of  the  war,  Weissenburg,  had  taken  its  place. 
It  simply  served  to  deepen  our  horror  of  war.  From  the 
Panorama  we  turned  to    Bethmann's  Museum,  a  small 


lo8  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

private  collection,  containing  Dannecker's  Ariadne  on 
the  Panther.  This  work  of  the  Stuttgart  artist,  of  the 
first  of  the  present  century,  is  worthy  to  be  placed  side 
by  side  with  the  work  of  the  g^eat  Greek  sculptors. 
Indeed,  I  hardly  know  what  work  equals  it  in  the  poise 
and  litheness  of  the  figure.  It  is  shown  under  a  light 
which  both  conceals  certain  defects  in  the  marble  and 
throws  a  life-like  appearance  upon  it.  Next  in  order  came, 
in  the  Romer,  the  Kaisersaal.  This  building  faces  a  me- 
diaeval square  quite  in  contrast  with  the  new  parts  of  the 
city.  The  point  of  interest  is  the  Hall  of  the  Emperors, 
which  contains  portraits  of  the  Emperors  from  Charle- 
magne to  Charles  V.  and  his  obscure  successors.  The 
house  in  which  Goethe  was  born  is  kept  as  a  memorial, 
and  shows  clearly  the  easy  circumstances  of  his  family. 
The  memorials  of  the  poet,  consisting  of  pictures  taken 
at  various  times,  pages  of  Wilhelm  Meister,  his  writing 
desk,  lock  of  hair,  etc.,  all  served  to  bring  him  nearer 
to  us. 

The  ride  of  a  little  more  than  seven  hours  to  Weimar 
in  a  fast  train  was  very  pleasant  but  brought  to  us 
nothing  of  special  interest. 

The  Russischer  Hof  at  Weimar  welcomed  us.  We 
did  not  find  it  luxurious,  but  it  was  comfortable. 
All  the  hotels  we  Jiave  so  far  found  on  the  continent 
give     us    fresh,     clean     beds.      We     were      glad    to 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  109 

be  at  rest  after  a  busy  day.  But  the  next  day, 
Thursday,  was  destined  to  be  busier  yet.  Weimar 
seemed  full  of  interest.  It  is  the  capitol  of  Saxe- Weimar 
as  well  as  the  literary  center  of  the  olden  time.  The 
statue  of  the  Dichter-Paar,  Goethe  and  Schiller,  was  the 
first  point  of  interest.  A  most  fine  and  fitting  memorial, 
too,  it  is.  Near  by  is  the  house  where  Schiller  lived, 
worked,  and  died.  The  rooms  are  still  shown.  The  bed 
on  which  he  died,  decked  with  wreathes,  is  pointed  out. 
We  found  his  grave  as  well  as  that  of  Goethe  in  what 
the  Germans  so  beautifully  call  the  Friedhof ,  and  in  the 
tomb  of  the  Grand  Duke  they  both  sleep  together. 

Herder  and  Wieland  have  statues  at  Weimar, 
lyike  all  the  bronze  figures  we  have  seen  in  Germany, 
they  are  excellent.  Time  forbade  us  to  visit  the  Schloss 
or  the  Kirche,  in  both  of  which  are  fine  paintings.  But 
we  wanted  to  crowd  Jena  with  its  university  into  the 
day,  and  yet  sleep  at  Leipsic.  This  we  were  able  to  do 
by  taking  a  train  before  noon,  for  Jena  lies  but  an  hour 
away.  In  Jena,  being  a  small  town  somewhat  ofiF 
from  the  line  of  travel,  we  found  no  English  spoken, 
but  summoning  all  our  reserve  force  we  met  our 
occasion  and  conquered.  A  bust  of  Schiller  by 
Dannecker,  placed  on  the  spot  where  he  composed 
Wallenstein  when  a  professor  at  the  university,  interested 
me,  but  the  university  I  allowed  Charles  to  visit  alone. 


no  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

In  getting  to  the  Denkmal  we  were  obliged  to  go  through 
a  professor's  house  and  passed  the  family  at  their  dinner 
on  a  kind  of  back  piazza.     It  looked  cosy. 

We  fulfilled  our  plans  and  slept  in  Leipsic  at  the 
Hotel  Hauffe.  Friday  morning  I  felt  quite  willing  that 
Charles  should  investigate  the  problem  of  university 
education  at  I^eipsic,  alone.  Leipsic  seemed  to  offer  few 
attractions.  It  is  a  great  commercial  town.  We  there- 
fore decided  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  day  at  Halle 
and  go  thence  to  Wittenberg  for  the  night.  A  ride  of  an 
hour  about  town  enabled  us  to  see  the  Rosenthal  park, 
as  well  as  many  of  the  streets.  The  theatre  is  a  fine 
building  of  the  Greek  order.  The  trip  to  Halle  began 
inauspiciously.  I  was  unfortunate  enough  to  address  a 
soldier  as  a  railroad  oflScial  and  a  university  student  as  a 
horse  car  conductor,  and  their  inward  wrath  showed 
outwardly  and  was  overpowering.  We  were  "able  to  find 
our  way  about  very  well,  however.  Charles  went  into 
several  buildings  of  the  university,  and  we  both  went  to 
the  new  library,  a  fine  brick  building,  holding  three 
hundred  thousand  volumes,  erected  in  1880.  It  seemed 
to  be  admirably  arranged  for  work. 

It  was  quite  late  when  we  arrived  at  Wittenberg. 
Die  Goldene  Weintraube  did  not  seem  over-attractive. 
A  friendly  word  in  our  native  tongue  greeted  us,  but  a 
huge  hogshead  had  to  be  passed  in  the  hall.     Our  room 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  in 

was  very  comfortable,  and  we  suffered  no  inconvenience 
on  account  of  speaking  German.  Our  Baedeker  played 
us  false,  but  fortunately  we  found  a  map  in  the  ofl&ce  and 
devoted  our  evening  to  planning  the  next  day.  The 
morning  light  showed  us  a  quaint  old  town  with  little  sign 
of  change  since  Luther  trod  the  streets.  In  front  of  the 
hotel  in  the  Market  place  were  gathered  the  usual  crowd  of 
women  with  all  kinds  of  produce  for  sale,  a  sight  common 
on  market  days  in  all  German  towns.  When  it  began  to 
rain  it  seemed  not  to  affect  anyone.  For  those  who  had 
booths  or  umbrellas,  it  was  well.  For  those  who  had  not, 
it  was  all  the  same.  In  this  market  stand  two  bronze 
statues,  one  of  lyUther  and  one  of  Melanchthon,  which  are 
in  no  way  wonderful.  The  Luther  oak,  which  marks 
the  spot  where  Luther  burned  the  papal  bull,  we  piously 
sought.  Our  matter  of  fact  guide-book  swept  away  all 
feeling  of  sentiment  by  telling  us  that  this  place  was  not 
the  real  place,  only  erroneously  supposed  to  be.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  no  doubt  exists  but  that  his  home  was  in 
the  old  Augustinian,  a  monastery,  now  used  as  a 
theological  seminary.  In  these  rooms  are  many 
memorials  of  him;  the  table  where  he  wrote,  the 
pulpit  from  which  he  preached,  the  curious  double  chair 
in  which  he  and  his  wife  sat  (a  thoroughly  German  affair, 
his  side  with  a  back,  hers  with  none),  pictures  of  himself, 
pages  of  his  manuscript,  collections  of  his  books,  and, 


112  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

carefully  cherished,  his  beer-mug  which,  to  do  him 
justice,  was  smaller  than  most  of  those  one  sees  in 
Germany. 

Standing  upon  such  spots  one  can  never  feel  as  he 
ought  to  feel,  yet  I  think  I  had  a  deep  feeling  of  awe  in 
the  old  Stadt  Kirche,  where  for  the  first  time  the  blood  of 
our  Lord  was  drunk  in  the  fruit  of  the  wine.  It  means 
so  much  to  us  all  that  that  man  dared.  I  wanted,  too,  to 
see  the  prints  of  the  nails  in  the  door  of  the  old  Schloss 
Kirche,  but  the  door  no  longer  stands.  Its  lineal  suc- 
cessor was  also  covered  while  repairs  on  the  church  were 
in  progress.  Here  is  his  grave,  and  near  by  that  of  his 
friend  Melanchthon.  Other  men  might  have  done  his 
work,  but  he  did  it.  Pious  ones  will  ever  turn  their 
steps  toward  Wittenberg. 

At  one  o'clock  we  were  en  route  for  Berlin,  and 
arrived  in  time  to  get  our  mail  at  the  banker's,  which 
made  our  heart  light  by  good  news  all  around  from  home. 
We  found  pleasant  quarters  reserved  for  us  by  Frau 
Fulleborn,  44  Jerusalem  Strasse.  It  was  a  change  and  a 
relief  to  sit  down  to  a  table  filled  with  pleasant  people, 
all  Americans  except  the  family.  We  were  prepared  to 
rest  to  the  full  extent  of  the  Fourth  Commandment. 
Sunday  morning  we  found  a  little  American  Chapel, 
where  we  heard  an  excellent  sermon,  a  sermon  really 
refreshing.     There  is  a  strong  tendency  to  let  down  the 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  113 

tone  of  our  spiritual  life  when  away  from  all  associations, 
and  the  sermons  we  have  heard  since  coming  to  the  Con- 
tinent are  not  of  a  type  to  stir  deeply  the  spiritual 
life.  We  spoke  with  the  clergyman  after  service  and 
found  him  to  be  Professor  Stuckenberg.  Part  of  the 
afternoon  a  young  New  Yorker,  a  student,  *Mr.  Arm- 
strong by  name,  spent  in  our  room,  and  part  we  spent 
in  writing. 

Monday  morning  we  started  out  with  the  idea  that 
Berlin  possessed  very  little  of  interest  to  us,  and  we 
strolled  away  to  walk  among  the  palaces  and  to  see  what 
was  most  worth  seeing.  Unter  den  Linden  we  were  dis- 
appointed in.  We  stepped  into  the  arsenal  and  found  a 
full  collection  of  armory  of  various  ages  finely  arranged. 
In  the  upper  part  of  the  building  a  hall  is  being  decorated 
as  a  kind  of  temple  of  fame,  illustrating  by  its  frescoes  and 
statues  the  military  prowess  of  Prussia.  Although  not 
entirely  done,  it  is  yet  sufficiently  finished  to  show  its 
general  effect.  While  too  gorgeous  with  its  red  marble 
pillars,  its  gilt  decorations,  its  painted  walls  and  gilded 
bronze  statues,  to  be  in  strictly  good  taste,  it  yet  serves 
its  general  purpose,  which  is  display.  The  collections  of 
armor  and  uniforms  upon  this  upper  floor  were  more 
interesting  to  me  than  the  guns  below.  Everywhere  is 
blazoned  forth  the  victories  over  the  French.     Captured 


*  Now  Professor  Armstrong  of  Wesleyau  University  at  Middletown. 


114  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

French  flags  from  Sedan  and  Waterloo,  captured  guns  and 
cannon  are  here  displayed.  The  fresco,  or  wall- 
painting,  representing  the  surrender  at  Sedan,  is  quite 
touching. 

The  National  Gallery  of  Art,  which  consumed  the 
rest  of  the  day,  interested  us  but  little.  Hardly  a  picture 
seemed  to  have  real  power.  One  by  Louis  Gallait,  whose 
works  we  admired  so  much  at  Brussels — The  Last  Hours 
of  Kgmont — held  us  longer  than  any  other. 

Tuesday  dawned  a  beautiful  day,  an  ideal  day  for  our 
trip  to  Potsdam.  A  New  York  lady  and  fellow-boarder 
here  was  glad  to  join  us  in  making  the  trip  for  our  com- 
pany, and  we  were  glad  to  have  her  for  her  superior 
knowledge  of  German.  We  took  the  ten  o'clock  train, 
which  brought  us  to  Potsdam  at  about  eleven.  We  there 
engaged  a  carriage  for  the  day  and  spent  the  rest  of  it 
in  driving  from  point  to  point.  We  first  went  to 
Babelsberg,  the  present  summer  residence  of  the  Emperor. 
The  palace,  built  in  English  Gothic  style,  is  situated  in  a 
pleasant  park  preserved  in  a  natural  state.  The  interior, 
which  we  were  shown,  was  not  beautiful,  hardly 
attractive  A  reception  room,  once  occupied  by  the 
crown  princess,  was  pretty,  and  her  apartments  were 
interesting  on  account  of  some  of  her  own  paintings. 
The  Kaiser's  bed-room  and  working-room  were  plain  and 
adorned  chiefly  with  family  pictures. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  115 

From  Babelsberg  we  drove  to  an  old  palace  of 
Prince  Carl,  father  of  Frederick  Charles,  brother  of  the 
Kaiser.  The  house  we  were  not  permitted  to  enter, 
but  the  grounds  and  views  from  the  grounds  we  enjoyed. 
Passing  several  places  of  less  interest,  among  them  the 
Marmor  palace  of  Prince  Wilhelm,  son  of  the  crown 
prince,  we  reached  the  famous  park  of  Sans  Souci.  We 
approached  on  the  side  of  the  picture  gallery,  and  this 
was  the  first  building  we  entered.  Its  art  treasures  are 
not  great.  Many  of  its  best  pictures  have  been  carried  to 
the  Berlin  galleries,  and  those  that  remain,  which  are 
attributed  to  great  masters,  I  should  regard  as  of  doubtful 
genuineness.  The  main  palace  was  evidently  built  to  fit  its 
name.  It  is  a  one-storied  structure  in  the  renaissance 
style,  and  seemed  to  be  the  home  of  Frederick  the  musician, 
and  Frederick  the  literateur,  rather  than  of  Frederick  the 
general  and  monarch.  Here  are  the  room  and  the  chair 
in  which  he  died,  here  his  library,  a  charmingly  cosy, 
circular  room,  here  the  room  occupied  by  his  friend  Vol- 
taire. One  room,  decorated  in  porcelain  flowers,  was  quite 
unique,  and  the  fittings  of  all  the  rooms  were  sumptuous. 
The  orangery  was  even  more  beautiful.  The  garden  in 
front  was  laid  out  with  great  taste,  and  its  fountains  and 
rare  flowers,  its  pond  and  tame  fishes  were  a  delight  to 
the  eye.  One  pretty  conceit  was  a  grapery  in  which  the 
grape-vines    were   trained   on   trellises,    ornamented   by 


Il6  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

busts,  giving  the  impression  of  Bacchuses.  The  palace 
itself,  with  its  wide  portico  extending  the  length  of  the 
building,  is  richly  adorned  with  statues.  The  central 
saloon  is  filled  with  copies  of  Raphael.  Other  rooms 
are  furnished  in  sumptuous  style. 

From  Sans  Souci  we  drove  to  the  Neues  Schloss, 
part  of  which  is  occupied  as  a  summer  house  by  the 
crown  prince.  Over  the  beautiful  waxed  floors  we  were 
required  to  walk  in  felt  slippers,  in  which  we  could  very 
well  skate.  Here  we  were  completely  bewildered  by  the 
richness  of  the  rooms.  No  wonder  Frederick  burned 
the  bills  incurred  in  erecting  this  immense  and  magni- 
ficent structure.  One  room  which  has  almost  driven  all 
others  from  my  mind,  was  a  circular  room,  seventy- five 
or  one  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  the  walls  and  pillars  of 
which  were  completely  encrusted  in  precious  mineral. 
Quartz,  agate,  onyx,  jasper,  amethyst,  malachite,  garnet, 
amber,  pearl  shells  and  lapis  lazuli  were  cemented  together 
as  I  never  supposed  they  existed,  except  in  the  dreams  of 
the  New  Jerusalem.  Twelve  marble  fountains  adorned 
the  sides,  and  immense  crystal  chandeliers  depended  from 
the  painted  ceiling.  What  its  magnificence  must  be 
when  lighted,  and  the  fountains  playing,  we  could  only 
imagine. 

At  the  Garrison  Church  we  found  the  tomb  of  this 
great  man  who  held  the  fate  of  empires  in  his  hand. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  117 

The  Stadt  Schloss  was  very  interesting,  and  a  silver 
salon,  whose  decorations  and  furniture  were  all  of  silver 
plate,  and  its  upholstery  blue,  was  the  prettiest  room  of 
all  we  saw.  Divided  from  it  by  a  silver  balustrade, 
was  the  private  cabinet  of  the  old  King,  Frederick  the 
Great,  containing  a  curious  table  which  could  be  lowered 
through  the  floor  and  food  put  on  it  and  again  hoisted, 
so  no  servant  need  enter  the  apartment.  In  his  working- 
room  was  a  desk  covered  with  blue  velvet,  stained  with 
ink,  at  which  he  wrote.  A  square  piece  cut  from  the 
desk  was  taken  away  by  Napoleon,  who  also  took  the 
sword  from  his  coffin. 

We  were  late  for  dinner,  but  what  cared  we  ?  The 
day  had  been  delightful.  All  the  next  day  I  was  filled  with 
a  kind  of  bounding  joy  that  I  was  not  born  to  royalty.  It 
makes  the  pretension  of  the  world  seem  hollow  indeed  to 
rap  with  one's  cane  on  the  coffin  of  Frederick  the  Great. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  went  to  Charlottenburg, 
stopping  on  the  way  at  the  American  Exchange  to  read 
the  papers.  At  Charlottenburg  was  another  palace  for 
our  inspection.  L^ike  the  others,  it  was  sumptuous, 
indeed.  The  most  interesting  room  was  a  salon  of  Queen 
Sophia  Charlotte,  decorated  with  blue  porcelain  dishes, 
presented  to  her  by  the  merchants  of  London.  The  walls 
were  wainscotted  with  dinner  plates,  while  the  fringes 
were  of  cups,  saucers  and  vases.     The  satin  hangings  of 


ll8  CARRIE  F,  BUTLER  THWING. 

some  of  the  rooms  were  beautiful.  Yet  the  mausoleum 
had  more  interest  than  anything  else  at  Charlottenburg. 
In  it  rest  Frederick  Wilhelm  III.  and  his  beautiful  wife, 
Louisa,  parents  of  the  present  Emperor.  The  recumbant 
figures,  exquisitely  carved  from  Carrara  marble  and 
shown  under  blue  glass,  were  wonderfully  beautiful  and 
effective.  Coming  back  we  stopped  for  a  walk  in  the 
Thier  Garden,  a  fine  park  to  the  west  of  the  city,  adorned 
with  statues,  fountains,  etc. ,  but  for  the  most  part  kept 
as  a  natural  forest.  Here  are  statues  of  Frederick 
Wilhelm  III.  and  Queen  lyouisa, — the  latter,  recently 
erected,  is  admirable. 

From  the  gardens  we  took  a  carriage  home,  where 
we  arrived  in  time  for  lunch.  Our  afternoon  sally  was 
to  the  Old  Museum,  where  we  expected  to  find  little  and 
found  much.  The  collection  of  original  Greek  and 
Roman  sculptures  is  large,  surpassing  that  of  the  British 
Museum.  The  collection  of  paintings,  though  small,  is 
choice.  The  finest  Rembrandt  we  have  seen,  I  think,  is 
Sam.son  and  his  Father-in-law.  The  museum  contains  a 
number  of  Rubens,  none  equal  to  those  we  have  seen,  yet 
confirming  the  impression  that  we  had  formed  of  him. 
The  ringing  of  the  four  o'clock  bell  closed  the  gallery 
and,  going  out,  we  took  a  carriage  in  which  to  complete 
the  day's  sight-seeing.  We  went  to  the  Jewish  syna- 
gogue, the  largest  in  Europe,  seating  four  thousand  five 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  119 

hundred  persons.  We  then  sought  the  bronze  monument 
of  the  Great  Elector,  and  then  the  remarkable  statue  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  a  marvelous  work  of  its  kind. 
Having  stopped  at  the  banker's  we  were  made  happy  by 
letters,  one  from  precious  Mary.  Driving  out  the  Bran- 
denburg gate  we  passed  the  Column  of  Victory,  a  remark- 
able memorial  of  the  triumph  of  '  70-'  7 1 ,  and  the  new 
Reichstag,  now  building.  We  reached  the  Zoological 
Gardens  and  had  altogether  too  short  a  time  to  see  its 
wonders.  Its  houses  are  more  sumptuous  than  those  in 
lyondon,  but  the  collection  of  animals  I  should  not  think 
as  fine.  One  bear  put  out  his  paw  in  a  most  enticing 
manner,  begging  for  something  to  eat.  Watching  the 
elephants  eat  hasty  pudding  was  highly  amusing.  We 
were  late  for  dinner.  Evenings  are  usually  filled  with 
writing.  I  also  try  to  improve  my  German  a  bit,  and 
find  the  desire  strong  to  settle  down  to  a  thorough  studj' 
of  the  language.  On  the  whole,  I  can  use  the  language 
with  more  facility  than  I  had  a  right  to  expect. 

Thursday  morning  we  awoke  to  a  rainy  day,  but  it 
did  not  daunt  us.  First  I  did  a  little  shopping  for  neces- 
sary things,  finding  articles  very  dear.  Charles  and  I 
met,  by  agreement,  at  Schloss  Place  and,  after  buying 
pictures,  we  went  into  the  new  museum.  This,  consisting 
largely  of  plaster  casts,  we  did  not  linger  over  long.  Six 
mural  paintings,  one,  in  particular,  of  the  Huns  fighting 


I20  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

in  air,  were  fine.  The  old  royal  palace  finished  our  in- 
spection of  the  houses  of  royalty.  We  were  hurried 
through  these  rooms  with  a  large  party  and  were  unable 
to  understand  the  guide.  In  magnificence  they  surpass 
anything  we  saw  at  Potsdam.  In  fact  their  magnificence 
cloyed.  Rooms  plated  in  gold  and  silver,  silver  thrones 
and  gorgeous  tapestries,  gold  and  silver  plate,  solid  silver 
columns  were  among  the  glories.  The  picture  gallery 
was  very  interesting,  and  also  the  Queens'  room,  con- 
taining the  portraits  of  all  the  Prussian  Queens.  Here 
for  the  first  time  we  saw  poor  Queen  Elizabeth,  wife  of 
the  Great  Frederick.  A  fine  picture  of  the  present 
Kaiser,  and  of  the  great  elector,  as  well  as  of  the  beau- 
tiful Queen  Louisa,  claimed  more  attention  than  we  could 
give.  The  bridal  chamber  was  interesting,  and  on  the 
marble  window  cases  were  engraved,  in  gold,  the  names 
of  all  the  royal  couples  here  made  one. 

Dresden,  26  September. 
We  left  Frau  Fiilleborn's  in  Berlin  with  real  regret, 
early  yesterday  morning.  It  was  some  compensation 
that  we  left  the  German  capital  enveloped  in  rain.  The 
journey  of  three  hours  between  Berlin  and  Dresden  was 
uninteresting.  The  country,  for  the  most  part,  was  flat. 
Three  Germans,  one  a  woman,  occupied  the  carriage  with 
us,  and  their  incessant  clatter  was  almost  crazing.  It  all 
seemed  to  be  about  fifty  pfennigs. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  121 

As  soon  as  we  had  removed  the  dust  of  travel  we 
started  to  find  the  gallery,  an  easy  matter,  for  it  is  con- 
tained in  an  immense  building,  apparently  taking  in  a 
large  part  of  the  city.  A  glorious  gallery  it  is,  full  of 
the  richest  treasures  of  the  art  of  all  ages  and  people. 
One  thing  was  very  noticeable,  that  the  subjects  of  the 
paintings  are  almost  wholly  sacred  or  mythological; 
historical  scenes  and  landscapes  play  a  small  part, 
Rubens  is  represented  by  some  thirty  pictures,  nearly  all 
of  mythological  subjects.  In  conception  and  execution 
they  all  fall  much  below  those  we  have  seen  at  Antwerp, 
Brussels  or  Berlin,  and  almost  inclined  me  to  modify  the 
high  opinion  I  had  formed  of  him  as  an  artist.  The 
tendency  to  paint  huge  masses  of  flesh  is,  in  these  works, 
exaggerated,  and  in  mythological  scenes  becomes 
voluptuous.  His  pupils,  especially  Jordaens,  exag- 
gerate this  fault.  Several  of  my  favorite,  Rembrandt, 
are  here,  two  from  the  history  of  Samson  and  several 
portraits,  but  none  so  striking  as  the  Samson  at  Berlin. 
"We  were  very  much  interested  in  several  exquisite 
paintings  by  a  Dutch  artist,  Van  Werff,  the  finish  of 
which  were  as  delicate  as  ivory.  Among  the  most  famous 
of  the  pictures  are  Correggio's  La  Notte  and  Magdalen, 
Guide's  Christ  crowned  with  thorns,  Murillo's  St. 
Roderiguez,  Bottom's  Magdalen,  Holbein's  Madonna, 
but  before  and  beyond  every  other  treasure  stands  the 


laa  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Sistine  Madonna.  Familiar  as  we  have  always  been 
with  reproductions  of  all  kinds  of  this  famous  picture,  it 
was  yet  a  revelation.  I  had  never  dreamed  of  its  power. 
Into  the  little  room  which  it  alone  occupies,  everyone 
comes  with  bated  breath.  All  talk  is  in  a  subdued 
whisper,  every  foot-fall  is  hushed.  The  feeling  of 
profound  reverence  and  its  manifestations  are  instructive. 
Any  levity  would  seem  like  sacrilege. 

The  larger  part  of  Saturday  we  also  spent  in  the 
gallery,  and  an  hour  or  more  in  the  Griine  Gewolbe  or 
green  vault  of  the  royal  palace.  The  art  treasures  of 
these  rooms,  although  of  a  different  character  from  those 
of  the  gallery,  are  no  less  wonderful.  In  bronze,  in 
ivory,  in  pearl,  in  amber,  in  gems  of  all  kinds  the  col- 
lection is  wonderfully  rich.  Cups  carved  from  amber, 
whole  cabinets  made  of  the  material,  sabres  of  solid  gold 
and  mother  of  pearl,  vases  set  with  garnets  and  turquois, 
these  were  some  of  the  many  wonders.  But  the  gems 
were  the  most  dazzling.  Here  were  arranged  cases  of 
diamonds,  of  rubies,  of  emeralds  and  sapphires  of  untold 
value.  Swords  whose  hilts  were  a  solid  blaze  of  diamonds, 
a  bow  containing  six  hundred  and  sixty-two  diamonds, 
the  smallest  being  about  the  size  of  those  in  my 
ear-rings,  the  largest  like  a  three  cent  piece !  One  neck- 
lace contained  thirty-eight  diamonds,  the  largest  like  a 
five  cent  nickel,  the  smallest  the  size  of  a  silver  three 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  123 

cent  piece.  These  cases  were  a  blaze  of  glory.  After 
buying  some  pictures  and  making  an  attempt  to  buy  some 
linen,  which  I  found  quite  as  dear  as  it  would  have  been  in 
America,  we  went  home  to  dinner.  I  felt  tired,  and  as  it 
was  raining,  spent  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  in 
reading  and  writing. 

Sunday  found  me  quite  used  up,  and  instead  of 
going  to  church  I  went  to  bed.  Monday  we  took  an 
early  start  through  the  rain  to  the  Johannessen  Museum. 
These  museums  are  growing  painfully  monotonous. 
This  one  was  composed,  for  the  most  part,  of  arms  and 
armour,  although  there  were,  as  in  the  green  vaults, 
some  exquisite  objects  of  vertu.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  of  them  was  a  jeweled  set  of  back-gammon. 
Both  the  board  and  men  were  decked  with  pearls,  emer- 
alds, garnets  and  gold.  It  was  a  sight  which  I  supposed 
did  not  exist  out  of  fairy  land,  to  see  horses  decked  with 
harnesses  set  in  all  manner  of  precious  stones.  Here  are 
treasured  some  mementos  of  historical  interest.  Here 
are  the  sword  of  I^uther,  the  armor  of  Gustavus  Adolphus, 
a  saddle  of  Napoleon,  a  hunting  horn  of  Henry  IV.,  etc. 

We  did  not  see  the  sun  in  Dresden,  and  much  of  the 
time  the  rain  fell  as  it  did  when  we  left.     At  the  station 

we  found  the   H s,  with  whom  we  had  previously 

traveled  from  Geneva  to  Chamounix.  The  insufferable 
courier   was  still   with    them.       Poor   Mama    H 


124  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

begins  to  feel  some  anxiety  as  to  how  the  money  is  going. 
They  had  a  bill  for  candles  of  one  dollar  and  seventy-five 
cents  for  a  night  at  one  place.  Their  slip-shod  manner 
of  traveling  shows  very  well  how  one  may  spend  quan- 
tities of  money  and  get  very  little.  They  spent  the 
night  in  Dresden,  stayed  until  noon,  and  did  not  see  the 
Sistine ! 

Prague  seems  old  and  ancient,  with  a  bit  of  orient- 
alism about  it.  We  arrived  before  three  and  at  once  took  a 
carriage  and  drove  out  to  find  Mr.  Clark,  the  missionary 
of  the  American  Board.  This  was  somewhat  difficult,  but 
we  finally  discovered  him,  and  after  a  short  visit  received 
his  promise  to  call  in  the  evening.  We  then  drove  to 
the  Burg,  famous  for  having  witnessed  the  outbreak  of 
the  Thirty  Years'  War.  The  old  Cathedral,  near  it,  is  in 
process  of  restoration.  Wallenstein's  palace,  still  owned 
by  a  branch  of  his  family,  had  a  great  interest.  Its 
beautiful  marble  hall,  its  chapel  and  garden  dining-room 
are  as  the  great  general  left  them.  Theckla's  portrait 
was  on  the  walls,  but  it  was  growing  too  dark  to  see  it. 
We  drove  to  the  hotel  across  a  fine  old  bridge  (Karl's 
Briicke),  adorned  with  thirty  or  more  fine  statues.  Some 
of  them  are  painful,  as  one  of  the  crucifixion.  Such 
representations  are  extremely  painful  to  me.  I  can  only 
hope  they  help  some  into  a  better  life.  It  was  hardly 
home,  going  back  to  our  hotel,  the  Englische  Hof.     For 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  125 

the  first  time  I  felt  a  repugnance  to  sleeping  in  a  hotel 
bed.  The  room  was  far  from  inviting,  and  nothing 
seemed  attractive.  The  evening  was  spent  with  Mr. 
Clark,  who  talked  with  us  most  of  the  time  about  his 
work,  which  is,  indeed,  laborious.  It  gave  me  a  better 
idea  than  I  before  had,  of  how  work  in  Papal  lands  may 
be  blessed.  A  large  part  of  his  work  is  through  the 
dead  State  Protestant  churches.  He  has  been  instru- 
mental in  organizing  many  Sunday-schools  in  such 
churches. 

Tuesday  morning  was  rainy  again,  but  in  spite  of 
this  fact  we  found  our  way  out  soon  after  breakfast. 
We  visited  the  Hussite  church,  where  Huss  preached 
four  centuries  ago.  Its  altars  and  pillars  were  loaded 
with  emblems  of  papacy.  In  no  church  have  we  seen  so 
much  evidence  of  superstition.  It  made  me  feel  sick  at 
heart.  To  have  once  known  the  truth  and  to  have  fallen 
from  it,  how  much  greater  the  degradation !  We  also  did 
a  little  shopping  in  the  garnet  jewelry  and  glass, 
for  which  Bohemia  is  famed.  We  ordered  a  set  of  glass 
sent  to  London,  but  I  have  serious  doubt  whether  it  will 
ever  reach  its  destination. 

At  half-past  eleven  we  took  the  train  for  Vienna, 
and  were  packed  rather  closely  with  disagreeable  peo- 
ple. I  presume  they  thought  we  were  disagreeable, 
for  they   wanted  the   window    up    and    we   wanted   it 


126  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

down.  The  country  through  which  the  journey  was 
made  was  rather  interesting,  different  from  a  part  of 
the  country  between  Dresden  and  Prague,  which  I 
suppose  was  the  outskirts  of  the  Saxon-Switzerland. 
We  reached  Vienna  about  seven,  rather  tired.  The  ride 
from  the  station  to  our  pension  in  Maximillian  Platz  was 
rather  long,  and  the  first  pension  we  called  at  did  not 
receive  us.  Twice  we  were  stopped  on  the  way;  once 
for  toll  over  a  bridge,  and  once  for  customs.  Vienna  has 
customs  of  its  own.  All  these  countries  are  fearfully 
taxed.  Even  a  poor  boarding-house  keeper  must  pay 
tax  on  her  boarders,  and  no  matter  how  small  an  income 
is,  it  must  still  be  taxed. 

Wednesday  was  largely  spent  in  finding  out  what  a 
beautiful  city  Vienna  is.  The  outside  of  the  buildings 
so  delighted  us  that  we  were  quite  contented  without 
entering  them.  We  found  the  Imperial  Library,  a  hand- 
some museum  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  vol- 
umes. We  also  visited  Harrach's  picture  gallery,  a 
small,  private  collection  without  much  of  note  or  merit, 
hardly  worth  climbing  the  stairs  for.  At  the  banker's 
we  found  our  letters,  a  delightful  treat.  In  the  after- 
noon we  found  our  way  to  St.  Stephen's  church,  the 
most  conspicuous  as  well  as  the  oldest  of  the  churches  of 
the  city.  Its  spire  is  very  fine,  but  the  inside  of  the 
church,   like  most  Catholic  houses  of  worship,   seemed 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  127 

cheap  and  taudry  in  the  excess  of  ornamentation.  A 
walk  about  the  Ring  revealed  more  beauties  to  admire. 
The  two  new  museums,  the  Academy  of  Art,  the  Palais 
de  Justice,  the  Parliament  House,  the  Rath  House,  and 
the  University,  all  within  a  stone's  throw  of  each  other, 
represent  probably  fifty  millions  in  money  and,  in  beauty, 
are  a  cluster  of  buildings  unequalled  for  architectural 
impressiveness.  That  the  old  fortifications  were  lev- 
eled to  form  the  street  on  which  these  buildings  are 
situated,  is  a  particularly  pleasing  thought  to  an  ardent 
peace  woman.  In  the  Volk  Garten,  a  pretty  park  oppo- 
site these  buildings,  we  found  in  a  chaste  Greek  temple 
Canova's  Theseus  and  the  Curtain,  a  work  of  Greek 
simplicity  and  power.  Near  by  the  bronze  statues  of 
Duke  Charles  and  Eugene  of  Savoy  draw  the  attention 
for  their  vigor. 

Thursday  morning  we  gave  to  the  Imperial  Treasury. 
I  had  thought  that  at  Dresden  we  had  exhausted  the 
beauty  of  gems  and  jewels,  but  here  was  a  collection 
which  charmed  us  for  hours:  the  Austrian  regalia, 
the  regalia  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  the 
regalia  of  Napoleon  as  King  of  Italy.  But  what  could 
more  plainly  tell  of  the  transition  of  life  than  to  behold 
the  jewels  of  Marie  Antoinette  and  the  cradle  of  the 
little  King  of  Rome?  Who  could  covet  the  smallest 
gem?     Yet  it  was  a  delight  and  privilege  to  see  such 


128  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

dainty  and  delicate  things.  Some  of  the  articles  made  of  all 
manner  of  precious  minerals,  such  as  hyacinth,  jasper, 
lapis  lazuli,  chrysolite,  emerald,  garnet,  agate,  sardonyx, 
onyx,  etc.,  were  beautiful  in  the  extreme.  The  royal 
christening  robes,  heavy  with  pearls  and  gold,  were 
beautiful  to  look  upon,  yet  on  how  many  an  unhappy 
baby  have  they  been  placed.  The  cabinet  of  coins  and 
antiquities  contained  other  fine  gems,  the  cameos  being 
particularly  fine. 

In  the  afternoon  we  took  a  horse-car  excursion  to 
Schonbrunn,  the  summer  home  of  the  Emperor.  The 
horse- cars  here  are  hardly  to  be  patronized  for  pleasure. 
They  are  usually  over  crowded  and  have  smoking  rooms 
back  and  front.  The  smoke  must  always  be  encountered, 
whether  one  gets  in  or  out.  The  tobacco  traflfic  is 
the  monopoly  of  the  government,  and  I  suppose  it  is 
money  in  its  pocket  to  encourage  the  use  of  the  weed. 
The  palace  at  Schonbrunn  presented  nothing  wonderful 
except  its  size.  A  building  of  numberless  rooms  stretches 
itself  over  many  feet  of  ground.  Owing  to  the  Emperor's 
presence  we  were  not  able  to  get  inside.  The  garden 
was  very  pretty,  tastefully  decorated  with  statuary  and 
flowers.  The  palm  house,  a  small  crystal  palace,  was 
very  beautiful. 

Friday,  October  2d,  we  reserved  for  the  Belvidere 
picture  gallery  and  gave  to  it  our  entire  morning.     The 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  129 

collection  is  full  and  representative,  containing  more 
works  of  Italian  masters  than  any  we  have  yet  seen.  It 
is  particularly  rich  in  examples  of  the  best  portrait 
painters.  Not  many  Rembrandts,  but  it  has  good 
examples  of  Rubens,  Van  Dyke,  Titian,  Velasquez  and 
Veronese.  Nor  are  there  any  very  famous  works. 
Carlo  Dolce' s  Mater,  which  we  see  so  often  copied, 
Titian's  Woman  taken  in  Adultery,  are  perhaps  the  best 
known.  Here,  too,  is  Titian's  Ecce  Homo,  an  unfeeling 
work,  which  tended  to  confirm  my  belief  that  Titian  had 
no  spiritual  insight.  Battoni's  Prodigal  Son  pleased  me 
very  much.  It  pictured  the  son  upon  his  father's  breast 
and  the  father  drawing  his  mantel  about  him.  A  Mag- 
dalen by  Orazio  Gentileschi,  which  gave  me  quite  a  dif- 
ferent impression  from  that  of  Correggio  or  Battoni,  was 
very  striking;  there  the  penitent  woman  has  her  eyes 
turned  toward  heaven.  Augustus  Carsaci's  St.  Francis 
was  full  of  expression,  and  we  admired  the  Presentation 
in  the  Temple  by  Fra  Bartolommeo,  the  first  of  his 
works  which  we  have  seen.  The  gallery  has  a  number 
of  Guido's,  which  show  him  to  have  been  a  most  unequal 
artist. 

Saturday  we  finished  up  odds  and  ends.  We  spent 
our  freshest  hour  and  a  half,  from  half-past  nine  until 
eleven,  in  getting  into  the  Parliament  buildings,  and 
after  we  crowded  in  and  got  our  tickets  there  was  very 


I30  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THIVING. 

little  to  see.  The  room  of  the  popular  branch  is  semi- 
circular, adorned  with  marble  and  furnished  with  ordi- 
nary desks,  in  no  respect  striking.  After  coming  out  we 
went  to  the  front  of  the  building  and  walked  into  the 
vestibule,  a  solid  marble  aula  in  the  Greek  style.  We  were 
allowed  no  further  advance,  and  came  away  muttering 
that  it  does  not  compare  with  Washington's  Capitol. 
The  Art  Museum,  near  the  Parliament  House,  possesses 
a  large  collection  of  early  paintings.  There  was  very 
little  interest  to  us  in  the  collection.  But  the  building, 
the  Academy  of  Art,  is  very  beautiful  and  well  adapted 
to  its  purposes.  In  the  front  of  it  stands  a  fine  bronze 
statue  of  Schiller.  Nearly  every  town  seems  to  have 
some  monument  to  the  poet  of  the  people.  In  the  after- 
noon we  visited  the  Capuchins,  where  are  the  royal  vaults. 
Near  by,  in  the  Augustinian  Church,  is  an  elaborate 
marble  monument,  by  Canova,  to  Marie  Christina, 
daughter  of  Maria  Theresa.  Although  the  separate 
parts  seemed  good,  the  effect  of  the  whole  was  bad.  We 
then  took  a  carriage  and  had  a  drive  of  an  hour  to  the 
banks  of  the  Danube.  I  had  expected  to  find  the  blue 
Danube  a  yellow,  murky  stream,  but  it  was  really  blue, 
and  the  view  from  the  Rudolph  Briicke  at  sun-set  was 
wholly  charming. 

Sunday  morning  we  were  awakened  by  beating  of 
drums  and  blowing  of  bugles,  and  we  aroused  with  a 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  131 

vague  impression  that  it  must  be  the  Fourth  of  July.  It 
proved  to  be  the  Emperor's  patron  saint's  day,  and  in 
the  Votive  Church,  opposite  our  house,  early  services 
were  held  which  the  military  attended  with  grand  parade. 
We  found  for  ourselves  a  little  Scotch  Presbyterian 
chapel,  where  we  heard  an  excellent  sermon  from  Pro- 
fessor Solman,  of  Aberdeen.  His  theme  was  the  first 
Psalm,  and  he  cut  down  deep  into  character  and  life: 
good,  honest  preaching.  The  afternoon  was  spent  in 
writing,   but   in  the  evening  we  had  a  treat. 

I  don't  know  that  I  always  regard  missionary  concerts 
as  a  treat,  but  of  a  Sunday  evening,  in  a  far  away  city,  they 
partake  of  this  character.  Into  the  house  came,  on  Friday, 
Dr.  Post  and  Mrs.  Post  and  their  little  boy,  on  their  way 
back  to  Bey  rut.  A  Miss  Kelly,  whom  we  had  previously 
met  at  Edinburgh,  and  who  is  thoroughly  interested  in  all 
good  words  and  works,  is  in  the  house  for  the  winter.  Dr. 
Dennis  and  Mrs.  Dennis,  also  of  Bey  rut,  are  lodged  near 
by.  When  we  planned  our  meeting  we  thought  of  having 
the  Posts  and  Miss  Kelly,  but  Dr.  Post  invited  the  Dennises, 
and  brought  in  a  young  Dr.  Glover,  who  returns  with 
him  as  instructor.  Dr.  Glover  brought  a  young  English 
doctor,  who  is  on  his  way  as  medical  missionary  to  Bag- 
dad, and  Dr.  Dennis  brought  too  Dr.  Henschel,  who  is  the 
chaplain  of  the  English  Embassy,  and  who  has  been  of- 
fered the    Bishopric  of   Jerusalem.     Frau  Ivcjeune  and 


132  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Fraulein  Schneider  came  in  to  swell  the  number  to 
eleven.  To  meet  such  cultured,  scholarly  men,  who 
have  done  such  a  vast  work,  broadens  one's  ideas  of  for- 
eign missions.  Dr.  Post's  work  has  been  stupendous. 
He  has  collected  fifty  thousand  specimens  of  Syrian  flow- 
ers, and  arranged  and  published  in  Arabic  a  complete 
Flora.  He  has  also  published  several  other  Arabic  text- 
books. The  observatory  at  Beyrut  is  connected  with 
those  at  Vienna,  Berlin  and  Ivondon  for  meteorological 
observations.  The  hospital  of  the  German  order  of  St. 
John  is  under  the  general  supervision  of  the  medical 
faculty  of  the  college.  We  were  particularly  interested 
in  the  account  of  the  abandonment  of  the  vernacular  as 
the  basis  of  instruction  in  the  college.  Dr.  Henschel  is 
interested  in  prophecy,  and  stayed  until  eleven  fitting 
Scripture  to  oriental  inscriptions  and  making  out  the 
approaching  end  of  all  things. 

To  take  the  train  from  Vienna  for  Munich  at  seven 
forty-five  required  early  rising.  But  we  screwed  our 
courage  to  the  sticking-place  and  did  it.  It  was  with 
real  regret  that  we  left  this  beautiful  capital.  Our  home 
with  Frau  I^ejeune  was  very  pleasant.  She  and  her  sis- 
ters were  true  ladies,  and  showed  us  great  courtesies. 
In  leaving  Vienna  we  left  Austria.  The  country  appar- 
ently differs  little  from  Germany.  It,  like  its  neighbor, 
is  burdened  with  an  immense  army.     The  people  differ 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  133 

in  appearance  quite  a  good  deal  from  the  Prussians. 
They  incline  to  be  dark,  sallow  and  wiry.  Vienna  is  a 
more  cosmopolitan  city  than  Berlin  ;  English  and  French 
are  more  generally  spoken,  and  more  nationalities  are 
seen  in  the  streets.  Oriental  costumes  are  by  no  means 
uncommon.  It  is,  too,  a  gayer  place.  Evidently  the 
theatre  and  opera  play  a  more  important  part  in  the  life 
of  the  people. 

From  Vienna  to  Munich  was  a  twelve  hours'  ride, 
and  we  were  obliged  to  make  three  changes.  The  car- 
riages were  not  good,  the  roads  were  rough,  and  a  part 
of  the  way  the  train  was  slow.  It  seemed  strange  that  the 
day  train  between  two  so  important  capitals  should  not 
be  better  equipped.  It  was  like  going  from  Franklin 
to  Aroostock  county.  We  were,  a  part  of  the 
way,  interested  in  the  antics  of  a  newly  wedded  couple. 
The  naivete  of  the  bride  was  quite  charming,  especially 
when  she  leaned  over  and  implanted  a  kiss  on  her  bride- 
groom's lips,  or  gave  me  a  full  account  of  herself. 
There  was  also  a  good  natured  German,  who  regarded  us 
with  curious  interest  and  expressed  undisguised  amaze- 
ment that  we  were  not  to  dine  all  day.  Yet,  on  the 
whole,  the  day  was  tedious.  The  scenery  was  pretty, 
but  not  striking ;  the  land  rich  and  well  tilled.  At 
Munich  we  found  rooms  at  Frau  Biirger's,  who  seemed 
the  personification  of  good  humor  and  easy  going  nature. 


134  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Her  pension  was  hardly  a  model  of  neatness  and  elegance, 
but  we  concluded  we  could  endure  it  for  a  week,  yet  I 
should  be  sorry  to  be  condemned  for  a  winter  to  her  ten- 
der mercies.  The  bed  felt  good,  even  the  intolerable 
feather  beds  were  welcome,  and  we  soon  sought  them. 
Our  conscientious  methods  in  sight  seeing  did  not  allow 
any  extra  nap  in  the  morning,  and  by  nine  we  were  ofE 
for  the  banker's.  Here  good  news  from  home 
awaited  us. 

The  days  at  Munich  we  filled  as  full  as  possible,  for 
the  city  offered  greater  attractions  than  we  had  supposed. 
It  is  really  the  finest  German  city  we  have  seen.  The 
streets  are  broad  and  the  buildings,  though  not  beautiful, 
are  neat  and  substantial.  The  squares  are  numerous, 
and  adorned  with  fitting  monuments  and  statues.  The 
Konig's  Platz  is  beautiful  by  reason  of  its  buildings  in 
purest  Greek  style.  The  Sieges  Thor  is  so  massive  that 
one  could  through  it  appreciate  something  of  the  power 
of  Greek  architecture.  We  found  our  way  into  the 
courts  of  the  royal  residence,  and  joined  ourselves  to  a 
party  who  were  going  we  knew  not  whither,  but  it  proved 
to  be  a  tour  of  the  palace,  which  we  had  not  intended 
making.  We  were  repaid  by  the  frescoes  by  Schnorr, 
which  in  one  room  depicted  scenes  from  the  life  of 
Charlemagne,  and  in  another  from  the  life  of  Barbarossa. 
The  dance  hall  was  very  beautiful,  walled  in  solid  marble 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  135 

of  exquisite  tints.  Most  of  the  rooms  were  like  those  in 
all  palaces,  dreary  enough  in  their  faded  magnificence. 
The  new  Pinakothek  next  drew  us.  Here  we  found  a 
beautiful  collection  of  porcelain  painting.  Wonderfully 
beautiful  and  expressive  seemed  the  faces  thus  portrayed. 
The  paintings  in  oil  were  for  the  most  part  the  work  of 
the  Munich  school,  and  contained  some  pieces  of  great 
power.  The  Destruction  of  Jerusalem,  by  Kaulbach ; 
the  Death  of  Wallenstein,  by  Piloty,  were  among  the 
greatest.  As  I  compare  paintings  of  the  modem  school 
with  these  of  the  ancient  it  seems  to  me  the  former  fail 
in  the  selection  of  topics.  Some  great  truth  must  lie  be- 
hind a  great  picture.  After  dinner  we  sallied  forth  to 
find  Herr  Tauber  and  his  family.  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
left  any  clear  impression  upon  their  minds  beside  the 
fact  that  I  spoke  abominable  German,  but  I  think  they 
were  pleased  to  meet  some  one  who  had  so  recently  seen 
their  mother  and  sister.  Herr  Tauber  seemed  anxious 
to  do  something  for  us,  so  he  accompanied  us  to  the 
bronze  factory.  Here  we  at  once  felt  at  home,  for  the 
first  objects  we  saw  were  the  legs  of  Daniel  Webster, 
and  on  looking  about  we  recognized  many  friends,  in- 
cluding Washington,  Patrick  Henry,  Jefferson,  Lincoln, 
Everett,  Peabody,  and  others.  Indeed,  the  larger  part  of 
the  models  were  to  fill  orders  from  America.  The  bronze 
doors  of  the  Capitol,  the  Cincinnati  fountain,  the  Eman- 


136  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

cipation  Group,  at  Washington,  as  well  as  many  other  of 
our  best  bronze  statues  were  made  here. 

Wednesday  morning  before  nine  o'clock  Herr 
Tauber  called,  who  had  kindly  offered  to  visit  with 
us  the  Glyptothek  and  the  Old  Museum.  The  Glyptothek 
delighted  us  exceedingly.  Its  collection  of  Greek  and 
Roman  statuary  is  not  only  large,  but  in  a  remarkable 
state  of  preservation.  I  will  confess  to  having  been 
more  pleased  with  the  statues  from  the  pediment  of  the 
Temple  at  ^gina  than  with  the  Elgin  marbles.  The  fig- 
ures were  very  perfect,  although  in  parts  they  have  been 
restored,  but  restored  by  Thorwaldsen.  The  building  is 
extremely  beautiful  and  the  taste  of  the  arrangement  be- 
yond criticism.  The  halls  were  pillared  in  marble  and 
vaulted  in  gold  and  pale  tints  of  green  or  blue.  The 
Old  Museum,  was  to  me  hardly  as  interesting  as 
the  Dresden  Gallery,  although  standing  close  up  to 
it.  It  has  no  one  great  picture  to  place  beside  the 
Sistine  Madonna.  In  it,  however,  we  saw  Diirer 
at  his  best,  in  his  Four  Evangelists,  Paul  being 
the  finest.  A  picture  attributed  to  Massys,  if  it  really 
were  his  work,  would  go  far  to  reconciling  us  to  his 
reputation.  It  was  an  altar  piece  of  the  Entombment, 
and  both  in  delicacy  of  conception  and  execution  is 
worthy  of  great  praise.  Guido  Reni's  Assumption 
seemed  to  us  among  the  best  of  the  pictures.     Its  color- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  137 

ing  and  expression,  as  well  as  its  conception,  are  admirable. 
Here  Murillo  can  be  studied  with  advantage.  All  but 
one  of  his  pieces  are  genre,  and  that  is  a  picture  of  a 
monk.  Here  also  is  a  large  collection  of  the  exquisitely 
finished  pictures  of  Van  Werff.  But  we  had  not  time 
enough  for  this  gallery.  We  needed  to  revisit  it  and  to 
linger. 

In  the  afternoon  we  turned  our  faces  to  the  museum 
of  fossils  connected  with  the  University,  said  to  be  the 
fullest  in  existence,  and  indeed  beside  them  all  fossils 
which  I  have  ever  seen  sink  into  nothingness.  My  igno- 
rance, which  every  day  grows  more  colossal,  prevented 
anything  like  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  value  of  these 
tales  of  the  rocks.  The  hipparion,  ancestor  of  the 
horse,  was  among  the  most  interesting  of  these  long-ex- 
tinct animals. 

The  days  in  Munich  were  full  and  exhausting.  We 
were  glad  of  extra  rest  on  Thursday  morning.  In  depart- 
ing we  left  some  pleasant  people  behind  us.  At  ten  o'clock 
we  started  for  the  station  and  at  a  quarter  before  eleven 
were  on  the  way  to  Verona,  a  thirteen-hour  trip.  The 
roads  were  rough  and  the  carriages  not  over- comfortable, 
yet  the  day  wore  on.  We  skirted  the  Tyrol,  which  we 
entered  at  Innspruck,  and  made  the  Brunner  pass,  four 
thousand  feet  high,  before  dark.  The  scenery  of  the 
Tyrol  we  enjoyed  as  much  as  the  Alps.     The  air  and 


138  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

clouds  were  in  a  condition  to  give  the  best  effects.  The 
autumn  tints  gave  a  new  touch  to  the  landscape,  and  the 
snow-capped  mountains  laid  a  background  for  the  whole. 
The  flood  of  a  week  ago  had  carried  away  a  bridge  just 
beyond  Bozen  and  here,  in  the  dark,  we  were  obliged  to 
get  out  and,  by  the  aid  of  flaming  torches,  to  cross  a 
plank  bridge  over  the  ravine.  It  was  a  picturesque  sight 
and  the  first  experience  of  anything  out  of  the  natural 
course  which  we  have  had. 

But  all  things  come  to  an  end,  and  even  jour- 
neys to  Verona,  which  include  two  custom  house 
examinations.  The  ride  through  the  streets  of  this 
ancient  city  at  nearly  midnight  was  a  strange  expe- 
rience. We  passed  through  heavy  walls  and  under  low 
Roman  arches,  and  between  the  high  stone  walls  of  the 
houses  which  bounded  the  narrow  streets.  It  was  easy 
to  transport  ourselves  back  to  the  days  of  Bocaccio,  and 
we  almost  expected  to  see  a  Romeo  under  some  window 
singing  his  farewell  to  his  Juliet.  I  am  glad  we  had  this 
touch  of  Verona  by  night.  In  the  morning,  as  we  rode 
about,  the  illusion  had  vanished  with  the  flood  of  sun- 
light. Here,  indeed,  was  the  monster  arena  built  in  the 
reign  of  Diocletian,  but  under  its  portals  shop-keepers 
were  busy.  Here  were  the  Roman  arches  which  had 
stood  for  nearly  two  thousand  years,  but  under  them 
Yankee  horse- cars  were  plying  and   to  them  telegraph 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  139 

wires  were  attached.  Here  were  the  palaces  of  nobles 
and  philosophers,  but  to  them  were  aflSxed  advertisments 
of  Singer  Sewing  Machines.  So  the  daylight  revealed 
that  we  were  not  in  the  middle  ages.  We  went  to  Juliet's 
tomb,  and  here  we  found  that  irreverent  visitors  had  cast 
their  visiting  cards.  The  home  of  the  Capulets  did  not 
look  just  as  it  is  represented  on  the  stage,  nor  just  as 
our  favorite  garden  scene  in  Society  hall,  which  was 
got  up  with  special  reference  to  the  lover  of  this  im- 
mortal twain.     Even  the  balcony  was  not  there. 

It  was  a  wretchedly  slow  train  which  took  us  from 
Verona  to  Venice.  Seventy-one  miles  dragged  out 
through  four  hours,  so  that  really  the  best  of  the  day 
was  consumed  in  the  trip,  for  it  was  nearly  three  when 
our  eyes  rested  on  this  wondrous  city  of  the  sea.  I 
expected  Venice  would  be  different  from  anything  I  had 
ever  seen,  and  was  prepared  to  be  charmed.  But  I 
hardly  expected  anything  so  different  and  so  charming. 
The  long  bridge  of  two  miles  brought  us  to  the  Island 
city  and  to  one  end  of  the  great  canal.  At  the  station 
were  drawn  up  long  rows  of  gondolas  which,  with  their 
black  hulks  and  coverings  like  funeral  palls,  looked  more 
like  a  hearse  than  anything  else.  In  the  stern  stood 
the  gondolier  and,  sitting  with  our  back  to  him,  we  glided 
noiselessly  along,  as  though  impelled  by  an  unknown 
power.     In  and  out  of  small  canals  and  large  canals  we 


I40  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

sped,  hardly  noticing  anything  and  only  feeling  into  what  a 
strange  life  we  had  entered.  Our  gondolier  might  have 
been  Charon,  our  canal  the  Styx,  and  our  haven  Acheron, 
for  all  likeness  they  bore  to  any  previous  experiences. 
Here  is  a  city  without  streets,  without  dust  or  mud, 
without  garden  or  parks,  without  horses  or  dogs,  without 
the  sound  of  a  passing  foot  or  driving  team,  a  city  alive 
and  yet  from  which  all  ordinary  signs  of  life  are  banished. 

The  Pension  Suisse  gave  us  a  pleasant  room  on  the 
Grand  canal  and  an  excellent  lunch,  to  which  we  were  pre- 
pared to  do  justice.  Immediately,  as  our  appetites 
were  satisfied,  we  stepped  into  our  gondola  and  started  to 
explore  the  Grand  canal  and  the  colonies  of  Venice. 
The  houses  and  palaces  present  a  strange  melange  of 
ancient  splendor  and  present  decay.  Where  once  the 
nobles  dwelt  now  tradesmen  ply  their  business.  But 
neither  time  nor  neglect  can  wholly  dim  the  wonderful 
architectural  remains  of  this  queer  city.  We  entered 
a  church  and  there  saw  how  totally  different  is  the 
Christian  ideal  in  building  houses  of  wonship  from 
that  of  the  North.  The  dome  has  supplanted  the  tower 
and  the  spire,  and  the  most  sumptuous  and  ornate  embel- 
lishment the  severe  plainness  of  Gothic  art. 

Sunday,  ii  October. 

Here  is  a  little  time  in  which  to  look  back  over  the 
ground  we  have  covered.     Germany  is  behind  us.     On  the 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  141 

whole  the  impression  left  is  not  one  of  pleasure.  Grand 
and  big  and  eminent  as  is  this  country,  its  characteristics 
are  not  pleasing.  Its  type  of  civilization  is  powerful  and 
materical  and  is  represented  in  its  extremes  by  its  army, 
four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  strong,  by  its  enormous 
consumption  of  beer,  by  its  feather-beds,  and  by  its 
universities  with  their  materialistic  and  ideal  philosophies. 
To  begin  with,  we  saw  no  sign  of  religious  life,  by 
which  I  mean  spiritual,  vital  piety.  Berlin  had  the 
finest  churches  of  any  city  of  any  size  I  was  in.  Sunday 
is  a  work-day  for  the  many,  a  feast-day  for  the  few. 
The  state  religion  seems  purely  formal  and  includes 
mechanical  baptism,  mechanical  confirmation  and  auto- 
matic instruction  in  the  schools,  while  unbelief  and  skep- 
ticism of  all  kinds  are  running  riot.  The  men  seem  made 
of  coarse  clay  and  are  boorish  in  manners.  The  life  of  a 
woman  is  too  hard  to  be  viewed  with  anything  but 
indignation.  In  addition  to  the  duties  of  the  house,  the 
women  have  laid  upon  them  all  kinds  of  the  hardest, 
most  menial  and  degrading  labor.  In  many  parts  of  the 
country  a  basket  strapped  upon  the  back  seemed  an 
integral  part  of  her  dress,  and  in  it  she  carried  all  kinds  of 
burdens,  from  vegetables  to  heavy  boxes  and  huge  piles 
of  wood.  To  see  a  woman  in  the  rain,  barefooted,  bare- 
headed and  bearing  a  heavy  burden,  was  a  common  sight. 
Yet  they  seem  a  healthy  race.     That  they  are  is  a  fact 


142  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

which  controverts  all  my  preconceived  ideas  of  hygiene. 
They  hate  fresh  air  in  their  houses,  they  drink  beer  and 
live  on  sausage,  sleep  under  and  on  feather-beds,  their 
children  are  half-clothed,  with  bare  legs,  arms  and 
necks,  and  yet  they  are  pictures  of  health.  They  are  a 
hardy  race. 

I  dread  for  German  ideas  to  take  a  firmer  hold  of 
American  life.  I  feel  sure  that  they  are  subversive  of 
the  best  type  of  character  and  civilization.  Not  much  in 
common  have  these  burly  denizens  of  the  North  with 
the  dark-eyed,  graceful,  light-hearted  Italians.  No 
wonder  the  Latin  race  perished  before  the  northern 
invader,  no  wonder  art  died  and  learning  languished.  We 
are  but  yet  in  the  confines  of  Italy,  but  already  we  can 
see  what  different  ideas  and  ideals  have  ruled  here.  So 
far  we  are  simply  bewildered.  Our  yesterday  was  spent 
in  St.  Mark's,  in  the  Ducal  Palace,  in  the  Rialto,  in  a 
gondola  and  in  the  shops.  Impressions  are  too  novel 
to  be  analyzed;  we  must  traverse  the  ground  again.  One 
spot  we  shall  not  revisit.  It  is  the  prison  of  the  Ducal 
Palace  and  the  Bridge  of  Sighs.  Down,  down  we  went 
through  a  narrow  corridor  of  solid  masonry.  On  either 
side  were  cells  of  utter  darkness,  lined  with  wood  and 
furnished  with  a  plank  bed.  A  hole  in  the  wall  admitted 
food,  and  opposite  this,  in  the  corridor,  a  niche  was  seen, 
on  which  were  placed  a  crucifix  and  candle  :  sole  spot  of 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  143 

light.  Down,  still  down  we  went  to  the  lowest  depths, 
reserved  for  political  offenders.  Here  no  wood  lined  the 
cells,  no  plank  served  as  bed,  no  crucifix  lighted  the 
utter  darkness.  Who  entered  here,  abandoned  hope.  He 
passed  the  massive  stone  bridge,  walled,  covered  and 
grated,  and  turned  his  back  on  mercy.  In  the  walls  are 
seen  the  holes  which  fastened  the  rivets  of  the  guillotine, 
and  just  beyond,  crowning  horror,  three  holes  open  to 
the  sea,  gave  to  this  silent  keeper  of  horrors  the  blood  of 
the  victim.  As  we  paused,  a  suppressed  gurgle  reached 
our  ears,  as  though,  in  vain,  the  guardian  of  foul  secrets 
were  struggling  to  speak  and  to  tell  the  story. 

Our  Sunday  was  spent  very  quietly,  but  in  no  way 
can  we  make  a  Sunday  abroad  a  real  Sabbath.  We  went 
to  the  English  chapel,  climbing  four  flights  of  stairs.  The 
sermon  was  an  indifferent  prayer- meeting  talk,  yet  it  pre- 
sented Christ  as  the  only  hope  of  salvation.  The  afternoon 
we  spent  in  writing.  In  the  evening  the  gondoliers,  their 
boats  decorated  with  gay  lanterns,  rowed  up  and  down 
the  canal,  singing.  I  fear  the  music  was  not  of  a  sacred 
character,  but  it  had  picturesque  features. 

Tuesday  Evening. 

This  is  our  last  night  in  Venice,  and  it  is  time  to 
gather  up  impressions  and  to  put  them  in  form.  Venice 
is  more  than  I  had  dreamed  or  fancied.  The  air  of  per- 
petual youth,   the  apparent  absence  of  toil  or  care,  the 


144  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

holiday  appearance  of  men  and  things,  foster  the  illusion 
which  the  first  sight  of  the  city  gives,  that  one  has  passed 
the  limits  of  our  every-day  world  and  entered  the  realms 
of  another  planet.  After  the  general  impression  had 
been  taken  and  we  began  to  study  in  detail,  the 
peculiar  and  grand  architecture  of  the  city  claimed  atten- 
tion. Here  we  met  a  type  of  architecture,  as  exhibited 
in  the  churches,  quite  different  from  anything  we  had 
before  seen.  The  Gothic  is  replaced  by  the  Byzantine, 
and  the  severe  chaste  interior  adornment  by  a  wild 
exuberance  of  sumptuous  detail.  This  characteristic 
is  seen  carried  to  its  height  in  St.  Mark's.  Its  seven 
domes  surmount  an  elaborately  decorated  pile  in  which 
marbles  of  all  hues  and  the  richest  mosaics  and  intricate 
carvings  are  united.  The  interior  is  a  mass  of  exquisite 
workmanship.  Hardly  a  square  inch  can  be  found  on 
which  the  artist  has  not  wrought.  In  marble,  in  mosaic, 
in  wood  and  stone  carving  and  in  bronze,  its  decorations 
may  be  found.  The  light  is  admitted  by  windows  in  the 
domes,  so  small  as  to  be  hardly  perceptible.  The  effect 
is  dark,  but  not  gloomy,  simply  rich.  The  most  effective 
work  to  me  is  the  head  of  Christ,  in  mosaic,  over  the 
portal.  To  study  St.  Mark's  in  any  fitting  way  is  the 
work  of  weeks.  I  did  not  study  it  enough  to  feel  that  it 
is  a  Christian  church. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  145 

Venice  presents  a  domestic  architecture  no  less 
striking  and  unique.  A  ride  through  the  Grand  Canal 
tells  better  than  any  words  the  character  of  these  old, 
noble  Venetians.  Other  cities  adorn  their  palaces  and 
churches,  these  men  adorned  their  dwellings  worthily,  in 
the  highest  and  richest  art.  One  can  not  but  regret, 
in  visiting  Venice  in  1885,  that  his  was  not  the 
privilege  to  have  seen  it  in  1585.  One  is  constantly 
filled  with  amazement  in  view  of  what  this  people  was 
and  did.  I  cannot  help  believing  that  their  conscientious 
piety  was  a  large  element  in  their  success  in  all  lines  of 
endeavor.  The  pious  care  of  the  Venetian  for  the  relics 
of  St,  Mark,  which  forms  so  prominent  a  place  in  the 
city's  history,  is  not  without  significance.  The  adoring 
attitude  in  which  the  Doges  are  painted  has  a  meaning, — 
Venice  was  the  queen  of  the  .sea,  but  the  subject  of  the 
Holy  One. 

The  paintings  of  the  Ducal  Palace  introduces  us  to 
Venetian  art  at  its  best.  After  seeing  the  Titians, 
Tintorettos  and  Veroneses  there  I  felt  I  had  not  seen 
these  artists  before.  In  Titian's  figure  of  Truth,  the 
center  of  a  large  canvas,  I  felt  for  the  first  time  that  Tit- 
ian may  have  had  some  spiritual  insight,  but  even  here 
it  was  wanting.  The  execution  and  coloring  of  the  pict- 
ure are  beyond  compare.  I  am  almost  inclined  to  rank 
second  in  the  paintings  of  the  Ducal  Palace  Giorgione's 


146  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Christ  Enthroned.  Tintoretto's  Paradise  required  more 
study  than  we  could  give.  Yet  we  felt  its  power.  There 
is  an  upward,  strong  movement  in  the  picture,  which, 
notwithstanding  its  immense  number  of  figures,  is  not 
fantastic.  This  canvas,  eighty-five  feet  long,  is  believed 
to  be  the  largest  single  canvas  in  existence. 

This  morning  we  visited  San  Giorgio  Maggiore.  The 
wood  carvings  (Flemish)  of  the  choir  stalls  are  the  rich- 
est we  have  seen.  There  is  also  in  this  church  a  mag- 
nificent group  in  bronze,  representing  the  Holy  Family, 
upon  a  globe  supported  by  the  four  evangelists.  The 
figure  of  the  father,  irreverent  as  seems  the  attempt, 
is  one  of  singular  grace  and  majesty.  Connected  with 
this  church  was  formerly  a  Benedictine  monastery,  de- 
stroyed by  Napoleon.  It  is  strange  how  we  have  traced 
the  blighting  and  destroying  influence  of  that  man 
throughout  Europe.  Yet  I  sometimes  think  he  did  some 
good,  by  the  over-ruling  power  of  Providence,  in  break- 
ing the  hold  of  the  idea  of  the  divine  right  of  kings 
and  of  the  infallibility  of  the  church  upon  the  popular 
mind.  The  fact  that  he  made  the  Pope  a  prisoner  and 
played  foot  ball  with  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe,  even 
grinding  the  remains  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  to 
dust,  must  have  made  an  impression  not  to  be  outgrown. 
And  he  was  a  Corsican  boy  of  humble  birth. 

Of  course  we  visited  the  lace  and  glass  factories. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  147 

My  head  was  so  turned  by  their  bewildering  charms  that 
I  lost  much  sleep.  The  lace  factory  under  government 
control  manufactures  no  less  than  thirty-four  kinds  of 
old  Venetian  lace.  It  was  quite  an  education  to  study 
them.  Glass  we  found  exorbitant.  We  have  not  bought 
a  piece.     The  process  of  making  was  very  interesting. 

Wednesday  Morning. 
In  rather  a  melancholy  mood  we  started  out  for  our 
farewell  view  of  the  Queen  city  of  the  sea.  We  turned 
our  faces  toward  the  Campanile  in  St.  Mark's  Place,  in 
order  that  we  might  obtain  a  comprehensive  view.  On 
the  way  I  stopped  to  feed  the  doves  which  swarmed  upon 
me  in  great  numbers,  lighting  upon  my  hands,  arms, 
shoulders,  anywhere  that  they  could  get  a  pick  at  the 
com  in  my  hands.  The  ascent  of  the  Campanile  was  not 
by  stairs,  but  by  an  ascending  plane,  and  was  very  easy. 
We  feasted  our  eyes  upon  the  panorama  until  I  am  sure 
Venice  will  always  have  a  place  in  our  memories.  At  the 
Piazzetta  we  took  a  gondola  and  visited  the  Church  of 
dei  Frari,  which  has  monuments  to  Titian  and 
Canova.  The  first  is  a  fine  work  containing,  in  bas 
relief,  his  Assumption.  The  other,  very  similar  to  the 
monument  executed  by  Canova  for  the  daughter  of  Maria 
Theresa  at  Vienna,  merits  all  of  Ruskin's  criticisms. 
Near  the  church  is  the  Scuola  Rocco,  a  handsome  hall  con- 
taining many  of  Tintoretto's  pictures.     Unfortunately  we 


148  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

had  not  time  to  make  much  of  a  study  of  them.  "  The 
Crucifixion"  and  "Annunciation"  are  best  known. 
We  were  not  able  to  see  Tintoretto  through  Mr.  Ruskin's 
eyes,  although  the  ass  feeding  on  withered  palm  leaves 
in  the  former  picture  is  striking. 

A  hasty  lunch, — and  we  were  soon  at  the  station, 
whence  the  one  o'clock  train  bore  us  to  Bologna,  where 
we  arrived  in  the  midst  of  a  pouring  rain  at  a  little  past 
five. 

Thursday  morning  we  made  our  first  visit  to  the 
gallery,  walking,  and  seeing  the  leaning  towers  and 
much  of  interest.  Nearly  all  the  shops  are  built  with 
arcades,  which  form  a  complete  defence  from  rain.  The 
city  surprised  us  by  its  cleanliness.  It  seemed  as  clean  a 
city  as  we  had  been  in.  The  gallery  was  a  surprise  to 
us  in  the  general  excellence  of  its  pictures.  No  gallery 
we  have  yet  seen  has  a  better  average.  First  in  order  of 
merit  doubtless  is  the  St.  Cecilia  of  Raphael.  Strangely 
enough  this  picture,  unlike  the  Sistine  Madonna,  seemed 
to  us  better  in  the  engravings  of  it  than  in  the 
original.  This  is  owing  to  the  violent  colors  in  which 
the  figures  are  represented,  all  against  a  heavy,  blue  sky. 
The  other  pictures  were  mainly  of  artists  of  the  Bolognese 
school.  Chief  stands  Guido,  admirably  represented  in 
his  Crucifixion,  and  Piat^  (which  contains  his  celebrated 
Matre  Dolerosa),  as  well  as  in  many  other  works  of  merit. 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  149 

A  Samson  was  particularly  good.  We  had  here  our  first 
glimpse  of  Domenichino  in  two  admirably  painted  works, 
but  with  unfortunately  repellant  subjects.  I^odovico 
Carracci's  Transfiguration  was  a  work  of  great  power,  as 
well  as  a  picture  by  Guercino,  representing  two  Carthen- 
ians  in  the  desert  worshiping  the  Virgin.  Several  other 
Virgins  enthroned  were  excellent.  One  by  Annibale  Car- 
racci  especially  attracted  me.  We  were  very  much  interest- 
ed in  pictures  of  great  merit  painted  by  a  young  woman,  a 
pupil  of  Guido,  Elizabetta  Sirani,  who  died  at  the  age  of 
twenty-six.  Her  conception  of  the  Magdalen  is  one  of 
the  best  we  have  seen.  She  is  clothed  in  a  sack-cloth 
garment  and  gazes  tearfully  on  a  crucifix. 

From  the  gallery  we  went  to  the  civic  museum,  in 
which  is  stored  and  admirably  arranged  a  large  collection 
of  Etruscan  relics  which  have  been  recently  unearthed. 
I  confess  to  something  of  my  daughter's  contempt  for 
a  "  museum  of  dirty  dishes,"  but  regard  it  as  a  manifesta- 
tion of  my  ignorance.  Very  interesting,  however,  was 
the  ancient  university  building  adjoining,  now  used  as 
a  city  library.  It  is  a  forcible  reminder  of  the  time 
when  Bologna  gathered  ten  thousand  students  and  the 
greatest  philosophers  of  the  age.  The  court  was  unique 
and  interesting  in  its  being  completely  covered  with  the 
arms  of  its  distinguished  professors  and  students.  The 
hall  formerly  used  for  an  anatomical  demonstration  room 


ISO  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

was  interesting  in  its  quaint  ceiling  of  cedar  wood,  carved 
to  represent  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac  or,  rather,  constella- 
tions. In  this  room  Galvani  performed  his  experiments. 
In  the  Church  of  San  Petronio  Charles  V.  was  crowned. 

Back  to  the  hotel,  dinner,  an  omnibus  ride  to  the 
station  ;  and  after  waiting  an  hour  for  a  delayed  train  we 
were  on  our  way  to  Florence.  It  was  so  late  when 
we  arrived  that  we  went  to  a  hotel  instead  of  our  pension 
and  passed  a  night  made  uncomfortable  by  hideous  street 
noises. 

Early  Friday  morning  we  sought  our  Pension  Chap- 
man in  the  Via  Pandolfini,  near  where  Dante  was  bom 
and  Tito  found  by  Bratti.  Our  hostess  proved  to  be  a 
Salem  woman,  full  of  pluck  and  energy,  as  lively  as  a 
cricket  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight.  Her  American  break- 
fasts are  a  great  improvement  over  the  continental  roll 
and  coffee. 

The  first  visit  was  to  the  banker's  and  we  learned  the 
horrible  news  of  Beth's  fatal  accident.  It  is  the  first 
shadow  which  has  crossed  our  path.  Everything  seemed 
changed,  and  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  control  myself 
to  go  out.  We  made  a  day  at  the  Uffizi,  of  which  criti- 
cisms are  reserved  until  the  second  visit.  Coming  back 
we  visited  the  Loggia  dei  Lanzi,  which  has  some  inter- 
esting monuments,  including  one  of  Judith,  in  bronze,  by 
Danatello.     We  also  stepped  into  the  court  of  the  Vecchio 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  151 

palace.  Its  columns  were  most  exquisitely  carved.  We 
had  only  time  to  prepare  for  dinner  and  the  evening  was 
spent  in  reading.  Romola  is  our  light  reading  and  it 
is  a  charming  companion. 

We  find  here  a  party  of  eight  young  ladies  from  an 
Ohio  seminary,  under  the  care  of  a  teacher.  We  enjoy 
them  very  much.  Saturday  morning,  by  an  early  start, 
we  got  to  the  Duomo  at  nine.  Of  this  wonderful 
Cathedral  and  accompanying  Campanile  it  is  difiicult  to 
know  what  to  say.  It  is  safe  to  affirm  that  its  likeness 
was  never  seen  elsewhere.  Its  hugeness  is  the  first 
thing  which  strikes  the  beholder.  The  immense 
octagonal  dome  and  the  far  stretching  nave  unite  in  pro- 
ducing an  astounding  whole.  The  variegated  color  of  its 
exterior  produce  a  bizarre  effect  not  altogether  pleasing. 
Nor  does  the  interior  give  anything  of  surpassing  inter- 
est. To  me  the  adjacent  Baptistry  is  more  interesting. 
It,  too,  has  a  mosaic  exterior.  Its  interior  is  impressive. 
The  chief  objects  to  draw  the  attention  are  Ghiberti's 
far-famed  doors,  which,  strict  truth  requires  it  to  be  said, 
need  sapolio.  Of  the  Campanile  hardly  too  much  can 
be  said  in  praise.  It  is  not  a  church,  and  no  objection 
exists  to  making  it  a  museum  of  the  cunning  skill  of 
artists.  At  ten  o'clock  we  went  to  the  Pitti  Gallery,  and 
returned  through  the  Uffizi,  of  which  more  later. 

lyctters  at  noon  brought  the  news  that  our  darling 


152  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Beth,  after  mucli  suffering,  passed  away  Friday,  Octo- 
ber 2.  It  is  so  sudden.  As  the  most  in  accord  with  our 
feelings  we  took  a  long  drive  along  the  Viale  dei  Colli.  It 
seemed  like  a  bit  of  the  paradise  to  which  she  has  gone. 
The  broad  road  was  lined  with  roses  and  hedges,  and 
overlooked  the  city,  the  distant  mountains  and  the  val- 
ley of  the  Arno.  We  passed  the  fortifications  built  by 
Michael  Angelo,  and  the  tower  in  which  Galileo  made 
his  observations,  and  the  house  where  he  died. 

Sunday,  i8  October. 

In  the  morning  we  attended  the  Free  Church  of 
Scotland,  and  heard  a  vigorous  sermon  from  Dr.  Mc- 
Dougall,  in  true  Scotch  style,  on  what  Charles  called  the 
geometry  of  salvation:  the  nature  of  saving  faith,  the 
object,  the  exercise,  the  results. 

Much  of  the  afternoon  and  evening  we  spent  in 
writing,  but  took  a  long  walk  to  the  Old  Cemetery, — a 
beautiful  spot  to  leave  cherished  dust,  if  left  it  must  be, 
under  a  foreign  sky.  Here  we  found  the  tombs  of  Mrs. 
Browning  and  of  Arthur  Clough. 

Our  Monday  morning  was  very  rich.  Having  de- 
cided to  try  to  get  to  Rome  by  Wednesday  night,  we 
were  obliged  to  utilize  the  moments.  By  half  past  eight 
we  were  on  our  way  to  Santa  Croce,  and  having  saturated 
our  minds  with  Ruskin's  descriptions  were  prepared  to 
explore  every  nook  and  cranny  of  this  old  Franciscan 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  153 

church.  The  facade  is  new  and  of  marble,  but  it  is  the 
interior  which  attracts  the  student.  At  first  sight  one 
sees  only  a  bare,  white-washed,  barn-roofed  edifice,  with 
numerous  tombs  skirting  the  sides.  But  when  one  is 
told  that  under  that  white-wash  are  waiting  to  be  re- 
vealed some  of  the  most  exquisite  paintings  of  Giotto 
and  his  followers,  he  can  see  what  the  church  once  was 
and  what  it  will  be.  In  several  of  the  minor  chapels 
chemicals  have  been  applied  and  the  ancient  pictures  in 
all  their  beauty  shine  forth.  The  most  interesting  of 
these  to  me,  Ruskin  notwithstanding,  was  that  adorned 
with  scenes  from  the  lives  of  the  two  Johns.  Yet  it 
must  be  confessed  some  of  the  scenes  from  the  life  of  St. 
Francis  are,  notwithstanding  their  restoration,  of  great 
power  and  beauty.  The  tombs  which  Ruskin  reviles 
cover  immortal  dust  and  point  to  this  church  as  the  fut- 
ure Westminster  of  Italy.  Here  are  buried  Michael  An- 
gelo,  Galileo,  Alfieri,  Macchiavelli,  and  others  of  less 
fame.  Dante,  too,  has  here  a  fine  memorial.  The  tomb 
over  which  Ruskin  raves  was  amusing.  Yet  I  do  believe 
his  principles  are  right  in  spite  of  the  sometimes  absurd 
application  of  them. 

Next  came  St.  Mark's.  The  church  itself 
appeared  slightly  interesting,  but  the  adjoining  convent, 
now  suppressed  and  used  as  a  museum,  was  full  of 
suggestions.      It     was      here     Savonarola    lived     and 


154  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Romola  saw  her  brother  die.  The  frescoes  of  the  clois- 
ters were  interesting,  several  by  Fra  Angelico  full  of  deli- 
cacy of  conception  and  execution.  The  upper  floor,  having 
the  cells  of  the  monks,  gave  us  an  idea,  and  the  best  we 
have  had,  of  how  these  old  monks  lived.  The  cells  were 
not  as  forbidding  as  I  had  supposed,  and  being  on  the 
second  floor  were  free  from  that  darkness  and  dampness 
with  which  the  cells  of  monks  are  associated.  Each  cell 
had  its  frescoes,  and  these  were  interesting  less  as  works 
of  art  than  as  suggestions  of  the  type  of  Christianity 
which  was  prevalent  in  that  age.  Nearly  all  were  repre- 
sentations of  some  phase  of  the  passion  of  our  I^ord,  or 
were  taken  from  the  legendary  lives  of  the  saints  or  of 
the  Virgin.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  works  of 
Christ,  any  miracle  or  teaching,  are  rarely  represented 
in  church  or  convent.  He  is  always  represented  as  a 
passive  sufferer,  never  as  an  active  man.  Query:  has 
our  religion  run  to  the  opposite  extreme?  Savonarola's 
cells  were  full  of  melancholy  interest.  Here  was  a  frag- 
ment from  the  pyre  on  which  he  was  burned,  here  his 
crucifix  and  hair  shirt.  Here  also  was  an  excellent 
portrait  by  Fra  Bartolommeo.  A  hasty  run  into  the 
Accademia,  to  see  Michael  Angelo's  David,  finished  our 
morning's  work. 

After  a  night  of  rain,  our  last  morning  in  Florence 
opened  fair.     Again  we  took  an  early  start,  and  this  time 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  155 

for  Santa  Maria  Novella  the  Dominican  church,  as  Santa 
Croce  is  Franciscan.  The  frescoes  of  most  interest  were 
those  of  Ghirlandajo  (scenes  from  the  life  of  Mary  and  of 
John  Baptist)  in  the  choir.  A  Madonna  of  Cimabue  in  one 
of  the  elevated  side  chapels  is  famous  as  the  best  work  of 
that  early  artist.  What  we  enjoyed  most  were  the  cloisters. 
Here  were  two  sets,  one  very  large,  both  elaborately  fres- 
coed. Now  the  place  is  used  as  a  military  school.  The 
Government  has  suppressed  all  monasteries  and  confis- 
cated much  of  their  property.  Off  the  first  cloisters  was 
the  chapel  Spagnuoli  covered  with  curious  frescoes,  and 
having  a  fine  echo.  The  Medici  chapel  of  Lorenzo 
was  our  next  point  of  attack.  The  tombs  of  Lorenzo 
and  Guiliano  de'  Medici,  by  Michael  Angelo,  all  un- 
finished, were  of  great  interest.  The  figure  of  Lorenzo, 
sometimes  called  II  Pensiero,  was  to  me  very  full  of 
power.  The  Chapel  of  the  Princes,  built  as  a  tomb 
house  for  the  Medici,  on  which  twenty-two  million  lire 
have  been  expended  though  it  is  still  unfinished,  was  a 
marvel  to  behold.  At  first,  as  a  whole,  it  is  not  pleasing, 
owing  to  the  combination  of  colors  in  the  marbles  with 
which  it  is  walled ;  but  an  examination  of  the  marbles 
and  precious  stones  reveals  their  great  beauty.  No  less 
than  eighteen  different  varieties  are  used,  and  some  speci- 
mens, as  of  the  serpentine  and  petrified  woods,  are  very 
beautiful.     The  library,   the  great  Laurenzian  library, 


156  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THIVING. 

once  the  property  of  the  Medici,  containing  ten  thousand 
manuscript  volumes,  was  extremely  interesting  as  show- 
ing the  type  of  libraries  in  the  days  before  books  were 
the  possession  of  the  people.  All  these  volumes  were 
chained  to  the  desks  on  which  they  were  placed. 

The  afternoon  I  stayed  in  and  wrote  and  rested,  and 
the  morning  of  Wednesday  we  left  at  eight  thirty-five 
for  Rome. 

The  ride  was  pleasant.  So  far  I  find  it  hard  to  get 
into  the  spirit  of  these  historic  spots.  I  have  to  pinch 
myself  to  realize  that  I  am  on  the  plains  which  Hannibal 
crossed,  and  not  on  an  Iowa  prairie.  To  approach  Rome 
in  the  steam  cars,  and  to  be  met  by  the  commonplace 
porters  and  drivers,  all  this  made  the  place  seem  a  vulgar, 
modern  city.  And  like  a  modem  city  does  it  seem  on 
first  appearance.  The  Via  Nazionale,  on  which  our  pen- 
sion is  situated,  might  be  in  Detroit  for  all  signs  seen  of 
ancient  life.  But  on  almost  every  comer  one  stumbles 
on  some  signs  of  ancient  or  mediaeval  Rome,  and  it  is 
with  these  remains  and  with  the  treasures  of  art  that  we 
are  chiefly  concerned. 

Rome,  25  October. 

We  have  now  been  three  days  in  Rome.  We  have 
not  felt  in  the  best  of  trim  physically.  Our  first  point 
was  St.  Peter's.  We  spent  Thursday  morning  there  and 
saw  it  only  long  enough  to  be  overwhelmed,  and  not  long 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  157 

enough  for  distinct  impressions.  We  climbed  to  the 
roof,  which  is  a  village  in  itself.  One  afternoon  was 
spent  in  a  drive  which  included  the  Pincian  Hill,  the 
Corso,  the  Trajan  Forum  and  the  Roman,  the  Coliseum, 
the  Ghetto,  the  Theatre  of  Marcellus,  and  the  Cenci  Palace. 
Friday  morning  we  visited  the  Sistine  Chapel  and  saw 
the  pictures  and  frescoes  of  the  Vatican,  of  which  more 
hereafter. 

Saturday  morning  we  started  out  at  nine  and  visited 
two  churches,  that  of  S.  Pietro  in  Vincoli  and  Maria 
Maggiore.  The  first  is  notable  for  its  statue  of  Moses, 
by  Michael  Angelo,  part  of  a  tomb  intended  for  Julius  II. 
It  seems  to  me  I  never  have  seen  marble  so  instinct  with 
life.  I  looked  at  that  figure,  full  of  the  righteous  wrath 
of  a  just  man  against  sin,  until  it  seemed  to  me  he  must 
spring  to  his  feet.  The  other  church,  containing  no 
great  monument,  is  yet  in  itself  a  monument.  Incor- 
porated into  a  more  modem  edifice  are  the  remains  of  one 
of  the  oldest  Christian  churches,  dating  from  the  fifth 
century.  The  church  itself  is  not  to  be  despised  as  mod- 
ern, for  it  antedates  most  other  churches.  It  is  modeled 
after  the  basilica,  although  small  arches  divide  its  beau- 
tiful white  marble  columns.  The  interior  is  impressive 
from  its  grandeur,  and  the  Sistine  Chapel  in  the  right 
transept  from  the  sumptuousness  of  its  adornment. 
We  descended  to    the    crypt    which    contains  the  re- 


158  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

mains  of  the  ancient  church,  among  which  was  a  marble 
group  representing  the  Adoration,  which  dates  from  the 
fourth  century.  The  mosaics  which  form  a  fringe  about 
the  columns  of  the  church  are  of  exquisite  workmanship, 
and  it  was  with  great  regret  we  left  the  church  half 
seen. 

The  Capitoline  Museum  was  our  next  point.  Here 
I  had  it  impressed  upon  me  how  incapable  plaster  is  of 
reproducing  marble.  Many  times  as  I  have  seen  casts  of 
the  dying  gladiator,  I  have  never  seen  anything  of  the 
power  of  this  work.  One  could  look  at  it  for  hours,  and 
all  the  time  the  heart  is  bleeding  in  sympathy  for  the 
noble,  proud  spirit  here  biting  the  dust.  The  Faun  of 
Praxiteles,  the  Venus  of  the  Capitol,  the  Antinous, 
appealed  to  me  as  the  best,  as  they  are  the  most  famous, 
of  the  sculptures  here  deposited.  The  Palace  of  the 
Conservatori,  opposite  the  Museum,  contains  a 
greater  variety  of  Roman  remains.  Its  tablets, 
its  bronzes,  its  statues,  its  inscriptions,  all  made 
ancient  Rome  seem  real  indeed.  The  magnificent 
reliefs,  formerly  in  an  arch  dedicated  to  Marcus  Au- 
relius,  the  bronze  wolf  of  the  Capitol,  the  bronze  boy 
extracting  a  thorn,  interested  me  most.  Among  the 
pictures  in  the  gallery  were  many  so  pleasing  that  they 
would  have  justified  a  much  longer  stay  than  we  gave. 
The   frescoes  of  Spagna,  representing  Apollo  and  the 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  159 

Muses,  were  pleasing.  A  Madonna  of  Francia  was  very 
attractive.  Two  excellent  Van  Dykes,  miserably  placed, 
look  out  amid  the  darkness.  An  unfinished  Guido  and 
his  St.  Sebastian  appeal  to  one.  An  enormous  picture 
by  Guercino,  St.  Petronella,  is  striking,  although  it  did 
not  stir  me  as  some  scenes  do. 

The  afternoon  of  Saturday'  was  full  of  absorbing  and 
melancholy  interest.  In  it  we  rode  out  through  the  gate 
which  looks  toward  Ostia,  to  the  reputed  scene  of  Paul's 
final  triumph.  We  rode  by  the  gate,  leaving  the  Protest- 
ant cemetery  on  our  right  guarded  by  the  sombre  pyramid 
which  marks  the  tomb  of  Caius  Cestius,  and  which  cast 
its  shadow  upon  the  great  Apostle  as  he  entered  upon 
his  last  journey.  A  more  melancholy,  dismal,  drear 
place  than  this  deserted  Roman  campagna  is  seldom  seen. 
It  can  hardly  be  merely  its  associations  and  the  memories 
of  what  it  once  was  that  cast  so  dreary  a  shade  over  its 
face.  Scarcely  a  human  habitation  breaks  the  mile  and  a 
half  which  lies  between  the  gate  and  the  presumed 
site  of  Paul's  grave.  Half  way  out  is  a  little  chapel, 
said  to  mark  the  place  where  Paul  and  Peter  parted  when 
on  their  way  to  execution.  The  Church  of  St.  Paul  is 
very  disappointing  as  one  approaches.  It  might  well  pass 
for  a  railroad  station.  But  once  inside  one  is  overcome 
by  its  simple  grandeur.  It  is  in  the  form  of  the  basilica, 
and  for  the  first  time  I  felt  how  this  form  of  architecture 


i6o  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

may  be  inspiring  and  uplifting  in  its  strength  and  purity. 
The  roof  of  the  nave  and  aisles  is  supported  by  four  rows 
of  twenty-one  pillars  of  the  finest  Corinthian  order. 
Their  polished  granite  surfaces  reflect  the  glory  of  the 
place  and  the  marble  of  the  wainscotting  as  well. 
Above  the  pillars  run  as  a  frieze  the  portraits  of  the 
Popes,  in  rich  mosaic,  and,  still  above,  frescoes  represent 
scenes  in  the  life  of  the  Apostle.  The  pillars  sup- 
porting the  altar  roof  are  of  exquisite  oriental  alabaster, 
as  beautiful  as  a  gem.  The  roof,  heavily  gilded,  seems 
a  little  oppressive,  and  detracts  from  the  upward  lift  of 
the  sanctuary.  The  cloisters,  with  their  delicate  tints 
and  carved  columns,  form  an  exquisite  bit  of  architecture, 
but  are  evidently  in  a  state  of  neglect. 

A  mile  and  a  half  beyond,  at  the  traditional  place  of 
the  execution  of  Paul,  are  three  churches.  The  first,  St. 
Mary  of  the  I^adder,  (Scala  Caeli),  has  very  little  interest 
beyond  a  few  ancient  and  exquisite  mosaics.  The  second, 
which  marks  the  suppositious  site  of  the  execution,  is 
elaborately  adorned  with  marble  and  with  a  fine  mosiac 
floor.  The  marble  block  upon  which  Paul  suffered  was 
shown  to  us  by  a  very  pleasant  monk,  one  of  the  forty 
Benedictines  who  reside  in  the  adjoining  monastery !  The 
spot  is  called  Tre  Fontane,  from  the  legend  that  three 
fountains  sprang  from  the  earth  at  three  spots  touched  by 
the  head  of  St.  Paul.     There  is  something  pitiable  in  the 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  i6i 

way  the  Roman  Church  has  overlaid  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tian history  with  puerile  fables.  It  seems  as  though  the 
simple  truths  of  our  blessed  gospel  were  grand  enough 
without  smothering  them  in  the  wrapping  of  such  sense- 
less traditions.  I  sometimes  long  for  a  second  set  of  the 
epistles  of  Paul. 

Our  Sunday  was  quietly  spent.  In  the  morning  we 
went  to  the  Scotch  church,  where  about  ten  worshipers 
gathered.  It  takes  very  poor  preaching  to  spoil  the 
gospel,  but  that  poor  preacher  almost  did  it. 

Monday  we  made  a  full  day,  starting  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible after  breakfast  for  the  Borghese  Gallery,  a  gallery 
said  to  be  the  best  private  collection  of  pictures  in  the 
world.  All  the  pictures  in  Italy  suffer  for  the  want  of 
being  well  hung,  but  we  provided  ourselves  with  opera 
glasses  to-day,  and  were  determined  not  to  lose  more 
than  was  necessary.  The  most  famous  paintings  in  this 
gallery  are,  perhaps,  the  Danae,  of  Correggio,  and  the  Sa- 
cred and  Profane  Love,  of  Titian.  The  pictures  I  find 
lingering  in  my  memory  are  St.  Stanislaus  and  the  in- 
fant Christ  by  Ribera,  a  Madonna  by  Francia,  and  a 
Crucifixion  by  Van  Dyke. 

We  had  time  enough  to  drive  to  the  Corsini  palace. 
Although  the  collection  is  inferior  in  number  and  reputa- 
tion to  the  Borghese  Gallery,  we  yet  found  many  works 
to  interest.     Among    the  pictures   Murillo's    Madonna 


i62  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

is  "facile  princeps."  Carlo  Dolce' s  Madonna  seemed 
to  us  one  of  his  best  works.  Guercino's  St.  Jerome, 
his  Ecce  Homo,  and  Guido  Reni's  Herodias,  are 
among  the  best  of  the  collection.  The  afternoon 
we  gave  to  churches.  First  we  took  Gesu,  the 
Church  of  the  Jesuits.  It  is  the  most  elaborately  adorned 
church  we  have  yet  seen.  It  did  not  attract  me. 
Still,  to  stand  by  the  ashes  of  I^oyola  was  something. 
The  altar  over  his  grave  is  sumptuous  in  the  extreme. 
The  pillars  supporting  the  cover  to  the  altar  are  of  lapis 
lazuli,  and  a  ball  of  the  same  stone  surmounting  the 
whole  could  be  hardly  less  than  three  feet  in  diameter. 
The  Church  of  Maria  in  Aracoeli  on  the  Capitol  Hill, 
was  our  next  point.  Each  church  seems  to  surpass  all 
others  in  gorgeousness  in  some  respect.  Here  it  was  the  roof, 
so  rich,  so  grand,  so  gorgeous  in  its  gilt  that  the  rest  of 
the  modest  little  church  was  quite  put  to  shame.  It  is 
at  this  church  that  the  wonderful  Bambino  is  kept,  and 
from  here  he  proceeds  in  solemn  state  to  the  houses  of  the 
sick  where  his  miraculous  cures  are  made.  We  peti- 
tioned to  see  him,  and  were  solemnly  conducted  into  one 
of  the  chapels  of  the  sacristy.  The  priest,  who  I  sup- 
pose was  Bambino's  own  servant,  drew  back  the 
doors  of  a  manger  and  showed  a  white  and  gilt  casket, 
which,  being  unlocked  and  opened,  revealed  upon  its 
white  satin  tufting  a  bundle  covered  with  rich  swaddling 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  163 

clothes.  The  priest  then  invited  us  to  kneel  and  make  a 
prayer  to  the  image,  but  we  were  excused  upon  explaining 
that  we  were  Protestants.  Whereupon  he  fell  upon  his 
knees  and  uttered  a  prayer,  ending  by  kissing  the  feet  of 
the  baby.  When  the  Bambino  was  unswathed  a  wooden 
doll  by  no  means  ugly  was  exposed,  appareled  in  the 
richest  garments  covered  with  all  kinds  of  jewels  which 
had  been  presented  by  those  whom  he  had  blessed. 
Strange,  strange  sight !  It  may  differ  from  idolatry,  but 
we  could  not  see  the  difference.  The  signs  of  Mariolatry 
are  here  very  noticeable.  I  read  a  prayer  in  this 
church  largely  made  up  of  ascriptions  to  the  Virgin,  to 
whom  the  prayer  was  addressed.  She  was  called  mother 
and  daughter  of  God,  bride  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  etc. 

We  next  drove  to  St.  Clement,  interesting  for  its 
age.  Here  a  Christian  church  of  the  ninth  century  rests 
upon  an  earlier  one  of  the  fourth  century,  which  in  turn 
was  built  upon  the  ruins  of  a  pagan  temple.  To  the  first 
we  descended.  To  the  second,  which  has  been  excavat- 
ed, one  can  not  go  on  account  of  the  water.  The  early 
frescoes  which  we  there  found  were  interesting  and  not 
without  some  artistic  merit.  Some  of  the  pillars  were 
very  beautiful,  a  few  of  them  being  taken  from  the  pa- 
gan temple. 


i64  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Tuesday,  27  October. 
A  glorious  morning  soon  clouded  into  rain.  We 
started  early  for  the  Catacomb  of  St.  Agnes,  about  a 
mile  beyond  the  wall  by  the  Porta  Pia,  through  which 
Victor  Emanuel  entered  the  city.  This  gate,  built  by 
and  bearing  the  name  of  Pius  VI. ,  now  bears  an  inscrip- 
tion to  the  memory  of  those  soldiers  who  fell  for  the 
unity  of  their  fatherland.  Poor  Pope  !  I  don't  wonder 
he  shuts  himself  up  in  the  Vatican,  sole  remnant  of  his 
once  universal  power.  We  descended  forty-five 
steps  to  the  Church  of  St.  Agnes,  an  ancient  basilica, 
having  little  of  interest  save  some  mosaics  of  the  ninth 
century  in  the  tribune.  We  had  provided  ourselves  with 
candles,  and  followed  our  guide  down  into  an  apparently 
dark  cellar  by  a  double  flight  of  steps.  Unfortunately 
he  spoke  neither  French  nor  English,  but  most  of  his 
Italian  we  could  understand.  This  catacomb  is  well  exca- 
vated and  well  preserved.  Through  a  labyrinth  of  nar- 
row passes  we  wandered,  on  each  side  of  us  being  the  tiers 
of  walled-up  graves,  or,  rather,  of  tombs.  Many  of  these 
were  undisturbed,  and  were  sealed,  some  with  marble, 
some  with  terra  cotta,  some  with  stone.  The  inscrip- 
tions on  many  could  be  plainly  read.  For  the  most  part 
they  were  simple,  only  giving  name  and  date  with  some 
expression  of  Christian  faith.  The  words  ' '  in  pace, ' ' 
"victoria  in  pace"  were  common,  but  most  frequent  was 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  165 

the  cross  or  some  symbol,  as  an  olive  leaf  or  a  dove.  In 
some  of  the  graves  which  had  been  opened  were  gathered 
vases  and  lamps  and  other  articles,  some  of  which,  I 
judged,  had  been  interred  with  the  body.  Occasionally 
a  cup  was  found,  and  this  signified  the  tomb  of  a  martyr, 
the  cup  having  held  his  blood.  The  little  chapel  we 
were  shown  was  destitute  of  adornment,  and  so  small 
that  it  hardly  seems  possible  that  Christians  could  have 
met  here  for  worship.  It  is  a  more  probable  hypothesis 
that  this  served  as  a  funeral  chapel. 

From  the  Catacombs  we  drove  to  the  Villa  Albani, 
now  owned  by  Prince  Torlonia.  This  held  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  century  one  of  the  finest  collections  of  Ro- 
man remains,  but  it  was  rifled  of  its  gems  by  that  arch 
fiend,  Napoleon,  and  few  were  ever  restored.  A  bronze 
statue  of  Apollo,  a  relief  of  Antinous,  a  wonderful  thing, 
and  another  of  the  parting  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice, 
were  well  worth  seeing.  The  villa  itself  and  its  ruins 
were  charming,  and  gave  us  an  excellent  idea  of  Roman 
country  life.  The  Palazzo  Doria  was  the  next  point  of 
attack.  Here  we  found  many  pictures  of  a  high  order  of 
merit,  for  the  most  part  portraits.  It  is  not  in  many 
galleries  that  in  one  sweep  of  the  eye  one  can  take  in  a 
Rubens,  a  Titian,  a  Tintoretto,  a  Holbein  and  a  Raphael. 
On  the  same  wall  also  hung  a  Van  Dyke,  a  Valasquez 
and  a  Piombo.     Without  exception  we  have  found  the 


i66  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

best  Velasquez,  Piombo  and  Quentin  Matsys  which  we 
have  seen.  In  fact  I  never  got  at  Matsys'  powtr  until  I 
saw  here  The  Money  Changers. 

So  full  a  morning  made  me  willing  to  stay  in  during  the 
afternoon.  The  hours  in  doors  can  always  be  profitably 
devoted  to  reading  and  writing.  Wednesday  morning  I 
was  prepared  for  another  tramp,  and  we  started  early  for 
the  Sculpture  Gallery  of  the  Vatican.  Without  excep- 
tion this  gallery  ranks  the  highest  of  any  we  have  seen 
or  are  likely  to  see.  Its  famous  pieces  are  the 
Apollo  Belvedere,  the  Laocoon,  the  Mercury,  the 
Crouching  Venus,  the  Torso  of  Hercules,  and  the 
Perseus  of  Canova.  But  these  are  by  no  means  all  its 
treasures.  Many  pieces  of  less  note  and  more  recently 
unearthed  well  repay  study.  I  was  again  greatly  struck 
with  the  fact  that  casts  give  no  idea  of  the  power  of  the 
marble.  We  went  again  to  the  Sistine  Chapel,  where 
we  got  an  excellent  light  on  Michael  Angelo's  stupen- 
dous work.  The  library  was  interesting,  although  at 
first  sight  it  appeared  like  Hamlet  with  Hamlet  left  out, 
for  no  books  were  visible.  Many  gifts  and  relics  were 
shown,  among  which  were  the  very  ugly  baptismal  font 
used  in  the  baptism  of  the  Prince  Imperial  of  France, 
and  some  magnificent  vases  of  Sevres  china  presented  by 
different  potentates.  I  had  the  great  joy  of  beholding 
the  precious  Vatican  manuscript  of  the  Bible  with  my 
own  eyes,  but  alas,  it  was  not  open  to  I.  Tim.  iii.  i6! 


CARRIE   F.  BUTLER  THIVING.  167 

The  afternoon  was  quite  as  full  as  the  morning.  We 
took  a  carriage  for  a  ride  along  the  Appian  Way  as  far 
as  Porta  Sebastiano,  and  under  the  Arch  of  Drusus, 
beneath  which  Paul  passed  in  entering  Rome.  The 
tombs  of  the  Scipios  and  the  Columbaria  lay  on  our  route. 
Returning  we  stopped  a  little  while  to  explore  the  Baths 
of  Caracalla,  a  vast  pile  of  ruins  with  few  reminiscences 
of  their  ancient  glories,  save  their  vast  size  and  some 
remnants  of  the  mosaic  pavement.  Coming  up  to  the 
Coliseum,  we  roamed  for  an  hour  about  its  vast  and 
awful  ruins.  The  Forum  we  spent  some  time  in  study- 
ing. Some  way  we  have  not  yet  got  into  the  spirit  of 
Rome.  We  see  the  spot  where  Caesar  lay  in  state,  where 
Virginia  was  killed,  where  Curtius  took  his  fatal  leap, 
and   yet  neither  is  the  blood  stirred  nor  the  brain  fired. 

Rome,  Friday,  30  October. 
In  the  morning  we  visited  the  Church  of  St.  Gio- 
vanni in  Laterano,  and  the  I^ateran  Museum  connected 
with  it.  This  church  is  the  Arch- Episcopal  church,  the 
mother  and  head  of  all  the  churches,  ranking  before  St. 
Peter's.  Here  the  Pope  is  crowned.  The  church  itself 
was  undergoing  some  repairs,  and  we  did  not  see  it  so 
thoroughly  as  we  should  have  liked.  It  is  a  fine  basilica, 
but  has  been  a  good  deal  injured  by  injudicious  altera- 
tions and  decorations,  and  does  not  compare  with  St.  Ma- 


i68  CARRIE  F,  BUTLER  THWING. 

ria  Maggiore  in  impressiveness.  Two  of  the  private  side 
chapels,  those  of  the  Torlonia  and  Corsini  families,  were 
very  beautiful.  The  former  was  an  exquisite  combina- 
tion of  white  and  gold. 

The  Baptistry  gains  interest  from  its  great  age  and 
its  reputed  foundation  by  Constantine.  Its  architectural 
form  has  furnished  the  model  for  the  greater  number  of 
the  round  baptistries  in  Italy.  The  museums  are  divided 
into  Profano  and  Christiano,  and  were  each  interesting. 
We  spent  some  time  in  deciphering  inscriptions  from  the 
catacombs.  The  Museo  Profano  contains  many  ex- 
quisite remains  of  Roman  art  which  have  been  unearthed 
in  various  places  near  Rome.  Among  them  was  a  relief 
representing  the  funeral  of  a  lady  of  rank. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  to  the  Capuchin  Church, 
and  saw  the  picture  of  the  Archangel  by  Guido,  and  vis- 
ited that  ghastly  valley  of  dry  bones,  the  cemetery. 
How  a  Christian  mind  could  have  conceived  of  anything 
so  heathenish  I  do  not  know.  We  also  visited  some 
shops,  where  I  squandered  some  of  my  patrimony.  Fri- 
day morning  Miss  Randolph  and  I  went  out  to  look  at 
photographs.  In  the  afternoon  I  rode  to  St.  Stefano 
Rotondo.  Oh,  the  horrors  of  the  pictured  martyrdoms! 
I  then  went  to  the  Palazzo  Barberini,  where  I  looked 
upon  the  haunting  picture  of  Beatrici  Cenci.  Rome 
bristles  with  horrors.     I  love  my  own  dear  country.     It 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THIVING.  169 

is  so  free  from  the  atrocities  in  which  these  lands  are 
soaked. 

Saturday  morning  we  went  to  Palazzo  Rospigliosi 
to  see  Guido's  Aurora.  Wonderful !  Nowhere  before 
have  we  seen  painted  such  life  and  motion  and  such 
poetic  motion.  It  is  the  onward  dance  which  Byron  de- 
scribes, chasing  the  hours  with  flying  feet.  Next  to  the 
Sistine  Madonna,  and  in  a  different  way,  it  is  the  most 
attractive  picture  I  have  seen.  St.  Pietro  in  Montorio 
was  our  next  objective  point.  A  glorious  view,  frescoes 
said  to  be  by  Piombo  from  Michael  Angelo's 
drawings,  and  a  sight  of  the  traditional  spot  of 
Peter's  execution  rewarded  us.  We  stepped  into 
St.  Lorenzo  in  lyucina  for  the  sight  of  a 
Guido's  Crucifixion,  hardly  as  fine  as  that  at  Bologna, 
and  then  I  came  home  and  Charles  went  to  Barberini. 
In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  the  engraving  establishment 
and  saw  our  engravings  packed. 

MiirAN,  10  November. 

Paris,  15  November. 
Rome  is  behind  us  and  so  far  I  do  not  regret  it.  I  have 
felt  so  far  from  vigorous  most  of  the  time  that  sight  see- 
ing has  been  a  burden.  Nevertheless  I  dropped  a  penny 
into  the  fountain  of  Trevi,  and  I  hope  to  come  again  with 
my  daughter.  We  left  Rome  for  Pisa  at  half  past  nine 
Monday  morning.     The  journey  to  Pisa  was  through  a 


I70  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

flat,  uninteresting  country,  made  interesting  only  by  the 
glimpses  it  gave  of  the  Mediterranean  and  Elba.  The 
city  itself  seemed  not  unlike  Florence,  situated  as  it  is 
on  both  banks  of  the  Arno.  An  early  bed  and  an  early 
rise,  in  order  that  we  might  get  the  nine  forty-five  train 
for  Milan,  was  the  programme.  The  group  of  fine  build- 
ings which  stand  on  the  borders  of  the  city,  and  include 
the  Duomo,  the  Campanile,  the  Leaning  Tower,  and  the 
Baptistry  and  Campo  Santo,  is  perhaps  the  finest  group 
of  buildings  we  have  seen  anywhere.  The  Duomo, 
Baptistry  and  Campanile  at  Florence  hardly  present  so 
striking  an  appearance.  The  Baptistry  is  a  marvel  of 
elegant  designs  and  proportions.  Inside  it  is  remarkable 
for  a  fine  specimen  of  the  work  of  Nicholas  Pisano. 
The  echo  is  something  wonderful  in  its  way,  and  as  I 
have  never  outgrown  my  childish  liking  for  echoes,  I 
made  the  sacristan  exhaust  his  vocal  powers.  The  inside 
of  the  Cathedral  presents  a  type  of  Italian  Gothic,  a 
kind  of  union  of  the  basilica  with  the  Gothic  which  we 
had  not  before  seen.  Here  is  the  hanging  lamp  watched 
by  Galileo. 

The  Leaning  Tower  looks  like  all  its  pictures.  It  is  a 
wonder.  We  did  not  ascend.  The  interior  of  the  Campo 
Santo  is  in  appearance  like  the  cloisters  of  a  monastery, 
but  is  a  peculiarly  delicate  Gothic.  We  drove  hastily 
back  to  the  station  through  a  pouring  rain,  and  took  the 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  171 

train  for  Milan.  The  route  to  Genoa  was  charming. 
Most  of  the  way  it  bordered  the  Mediterranean,  often 
tunneling  its  way  through  rocks  in  order  to  make  its 
passage.  The  glimpses  of  the  sea  through  these  rocks 
were  charming. 

At  Genoa  all  we  could  do  was  to  think  of  Christo- 
pher Columbus  of  blessed  memory.  We  puzzled  our- 
selves with  the  problem  of  where  we  should  have  been 
if  that  saint  had  never  been  born.  It  grew  dark  soon, 
and  our  ride  through  Lombardy  to  Milan  had  only  the 
weariness  of  the  final  part  of  a  long  journey.  At  Milan 
we  found  our  way  by  means  of  an  omnibus  to  the  Hotel 
Pozzo,  a  cheerless  kind  of  a  place  with  a  shut-up  smell, 
which  made  me  anxious  to  make  our  stay  in  Milan  as 
short  as  possible.  This  we  did  by  working  hard  on 
Wednesday.  Our  first  drive  was  to  the  banker's,  where 
voluminous  mail  reached  us,  including  very  nice  letters 
from  Mary.  We  then  drove  to  the  Brera.  This  gallery 
is  finely  arranged  and  lighted,  but,  though  a  cold  day, 
it  was  unwarmed.  We  therefore  did  not  stay  to  examine 
the  pictures  in  detail,  but  only  the  masterpieces.  The 
pride  of  the  Brera  is  Raphael's  Marriage  of  the  Virgin. 
The  picture  did  not  impress  me,  although  it  would  be 
easy  to  catalogue  its  merits.  A  picture  which  interested 
me  more  was  a  study  of  the  head  of  Christ,  by  Leonardo, 
for  his  Last  Supper.     I  think  that  divinity  shines  in  this 


172  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

face  more  strongly  than  any  representation  of  Christ  I 
have  ever  seen.  The  gallery  introduced  us  to  several 
new  artists.  Bernardino  Luini  is  perhaps  the  best  of  them. 
Two  fine  Veroneses  are  also  here.  But  the  way  in 
which  we  saw  the  gallery  was  unsatisfactory.  Leaving 
it,  we  walked  back  through  the  beautiful  arcade 
of  Victor  Emanuel  to  the  Duomo — the  wonderful  Duomo. 
It  is  magnificently  placed,  and  stands  as  a  constant  in- 
spiration to  holy  thoughts  and  desires.  But  the  truth 
must  be  told.  It  is  dingy.  The  spires  and  dainty  work, 
which  must  have  looked  like  frost  work  when  fresh  from 
the  artist's  hands,  show  too  clearly  how  long  they  have 
mingled  with  earth.  The  interior  is  grand,  and  caused 
us  to  exclaim  again:  "The  Gothic  is  the  only  archi- 
tecture for  a  Christian  church."  Unfortunately  the  in- 
terior was  much  disfigured  by  the  trumpery  pictures  and 
decorations,  but  the  windows  are  glorious.  Taking 
a  carriage  at  the  Piazzo  Duomo  we  drove  to  the  Church 
of  Maria  delle  Grazie,  in  the  refectory  of  whose  monas- 
tery is  all  that  remains  of  Leonardo  Da  Vinci's  Last 
Supper.  Here,  as  all  over  Europe,  Napoleon's  cloven 
hoof  is  seen.  His  soldiers,  here  quartered,  amused  them- 
selves by  disfiguring  this  magnificent  work.  It  is  de- 
faced beyond  all  hope  of  restoration,  but  so  long  as  one 
line  is  left  its  genius  will  survive.  Some  excellent  cop- 
ies were  in  the  room.     Going  back  to  the  banker's  we 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  173 

found  yet  more  mail,  and  we  then  rode  to  see 
some  drawings  of  Leonardo  and  of  Raphael.  Those 
of  the  latter  artist  for  his  School  of  Athens,  and 
some  other  frescoes  were  especially  interesting.  Walk- 
ing back  to  the  Duomo  we  stopped  to  engage  our  passage 
for  Basle,  and  then  went  to  buy  photographs.  We  got 
back  to  the  hotel  for  a  late  dinner  and  an  early  bed. 

The  early  bed  was  the  prelude  to  an  early  rise,  for 
half -past  five  saw  us  on  our  feet,  and  at  half  past  seven 
we  were  speeding  toward  Basle  in  a  fine  compartment 
car,  of  which  we  were  the  sole  occupants.  A  journey  so 
delightful  as  that  of  the  12th  November,  1885,  from 
Milan  to  Basle,  by  St.  Gothard,  I  never  experienced. 
Everything  conspired  to  make  it  so,  the  finest  of  weather 
without  and  the  most  comfortable  of  cars  within,  and 
over  the  glorious  Alps.  We  pierced  mountains  and  we 
scaled  mountains,  we  dashed  over  precipices  and  around 
precipices,  and  yet  over  more  mountains  higher  and 
precipices  more  steep.  Night  did  not  settle  upon  us  un- 
til, having  passed  Tell's  home  and  Arth  Goldau,  we 
reached  L,ucerne.  Even  then  the  light  was  sufl&cient  to 
show  to  us  Hotel  St.  Gothard,  which  we  had  not  ex- 
pected to  see  again  this  year.  At  Basle  we  walked  from  the 
station  to  a  near  hotel,  and  found  a  comfortable  resting 
place  for  the  night.  At  quarter  to  nine  we  were  on  our 
way  to  Paris,  on  what  I  think  was  the  fastest  train  I  ever 


174  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

traveled  on  for  any  length  of  time.  We  made  hardly 
six  stops,  and  between  six  and  seven  o'clock  were  in 
Paris.  The  country  was  fiat  and  uninteresting.  The 
soil  seemed  poorer  than  I  expected  to  find.  The  houses 
were  few,  the  population  here  as  in  other  parts  of  the 
continent  being  gathered  into  towns. 

We  went  to  a  small  hotel,  Brittanique,  for  the  night. 
It  was  gloomy  enough.  The  weather  was  as  cold  as  at 
home,  and  we  were  almost  homesick  in  gay  Paris.  But 
daylight  put  a  brighter  aspect  on  things.  Our  first  care 
was  to  look  for  permanent  lodgings  and  to  get  our  mail. 
We  decided  on  Hotel  de  la  Tamise,  a  quiet  little  place  on 
Rue  d' Alger,  opposite  the  Tuileries  Gardens.  We  have 
a  cozy  room  and  are  most  centrally  located.  The  first  after- 
noon we  spent  in  wandering  about  the  wonderful  streets. 
The  magnificence  of  this  city  is  patent  to  the  most  super- 
ficial observer.  Its  broad  streets  and  boulevards,  its 
parks  and  squares,  its  palaces  and  magnificent  public 
buildings,  combine  to  form  a  scene  of  unparalleled  splen- 
dor. Our  first  Sunday  in  Paris  passed  much  as  all  our 
continental  Sabbaths  have  passed.  In  the  morning  we 
went  to  the  American  Church,  of  which  Dr.  A.  F.  Beard  is 
pa.stor.  The  edifice  is  really  very  pretty,  and  the  congrega- 
tion the  largest  and  best  looking,  I  think,  we  have  seen. 

Tuesday  we  began  our  work,  systematic  work,  in 
earnest.     We  spent  the  morning  in  the  lyouvre,  going 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  175 

through  the  sculpture  galleries  and  making  a  beginning 
on  the  pictures.  It  is  by  far  the  best  single  gallery  we 
have  visited.  In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  the  Made- 
leine, a  true  Corinthian  Greek  temple.  It  is  massive  and 
impressive  without,  but  it  is  not  a  church.  The  interior  is 
gloomy,  being  lighted  only  from  above.  It  is  sombre 
and  heavy,  and  has  none  of  the  litheness  and  spring 
which  belong  to  a  church.  Over  its  doors,  as  over  the 
doors  of  all  the  public  buildings  in  this  city,  are  those 
magic  words,  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  French  Revolution- 
ist, "  Liberie,  egualiti,  fraierniie.^'  They  seem  used  as  a 
magic  charm.  We  wandered  about  the  streets  and  bou- 
levards after  the  gas  was  lighted.  The  streets  are  bril- 
liant and  gay,  crowded  beyond  compare.  We  came  down 
the  Rue  Roy  ale  to  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  stood 
watching  the  tide  of  life,  the  innumerable  lights,  and  the 
general  brilliancy.  It  was  a  good  place  to  stand  to  see 
the  present.  It  was  a  good  place  to  stand  to  reflect  upon 
the  past.  It  all  seemed  like  a  story  of  blood  and  rapine, 
of  ungoverned  passions  and  unholy  vengeance.  What 
iniquities  have  these  streets  not  seen  !  One  realizes  here 
the  enormities  which  the  history  of  France  unfolds. 
Paris  holds  the  larger  part  of  them. 

Wednesday  morning  found  us  again  at  the  lyouvre. 
The  pictures  are  glorious.  It  is  decidedly  the  most  rep- 
resentative gallery  we  have  seen.     In  it  are  found  mas- 


176  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

terpieces  of  all  the  great  masters.  Its  Murillos  are  the 
finest  we  have  seen,  and  confirm  my  strong  predilection 
for  that  artist.  His  Conception  ranks,  I  believe,  next  to 
the  Sistine  Madonna.  Indeed,  in  coloring  and  in  the  fe- 
licity of  its  conception,  it  is  its  superior.  Murillo  never 
puts  in  the  lay  figures  of  the  saints,  which  so  mar  the 
ideal  perfection  of  so  many  religious  fancies.  Titian  is 
represented  by  many  excellent  works  of  a  motif  as  differ- 
ent as  the  Entombment  and  Jupiter  and  Antigone.  They 
all  have  deepened  my  judgment  that  Titian  was  inca- 
pable of  so  apprehending  spiritual  truth  as  to  put  it  upon 
canvas.  Two  of  the  finest  Correggios  we  have  seen  are 
those  of  Venus  and  the  Satyr  and  the  Marriage  of  St. 
Catharine.  The  only  Leonardo  of  any  interest  to  me, 
save  his  Last  Supper,  we  find  here.  The  Raphaels, 
though  numerous,  add  very  little  to  the  impression  he 
has  already  made  upon  me.  I  cannot  regard  him  as  al- 
ways a  pleasing  artist.  His  contrasts  are  too  violent. 
His  Madonnas  seem  to  me  to  have  very  little  character. 
Rubens  and  Rubens'  Wives  are  here.  There  is  a  coarse- 
ness about  many  of  his  figures  which  grows  upon  me 
after  I  have  studied  Italian  art.  His  Triumph  of  Relig- 
ion is  a  spirited  piece,  however. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  over  to  the  Island  to  visit 
the  Notre  Dame  Cathedral.  On  the  way  we  passed  the 
beautiful  Tower  St.  Jacques  and  the  magnificent  Hotel 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  in 

de  Ville.  The  squares  and  public  buildings  are  so  grand. 
The  church  was  not  disappointing.  Architecturally  it  is 
full  of  interest.  Its  rows  of  massive  pillars  and  the  ex- 
quisitely decorated  chapels  behind  the  choir  made  this 
church  to  us  unique.  But  it  was  cold  and  dark,  with 
few  signs  of  worship.  Churches  do  not  seem  to  be  fre- 
quented here  by  worshipers  as  in  Italy.  We  walked 
round  the  Palais  de  Justice  and  the  statue  of  Charle- 
magne and  back  to  the  hotel,  after  searching  shops  and 
shop  windows  for  beautiful  dolls  for  our  daughter. 

In  the  evening  we  went  to  one  of  the  meetings  of 
the  McCall  Mission.  I^ord  Radstock  spoke,  and  gave  a 
clear,  comprehensive  gospel  talk.  I  was  pleased  to  find 
I  could  understand  every  word.  It  was  quite  novel  to 
sing  ' '  Moody  and  Sankey  ' '  in  French.  But  in  French  or 
English  the  old  story  is  the  same.  We  really  seem  to 
see  more  signs  of  evangelical  earnestness  than  in  any 
city  since  leaving  I^ondon. 

Thursday  morning  we  visited  the  Pantheon.  It  is  a 
massive  building  with  a  dome  which  seems  to  lift  the 
whole  pile  upwards.  The  interior  is  in  the  form  of  a 
Greek  cross  and  in  the  Corinthian  style.  The  walls  are 
decorated  with  scenes  from  the  lives  of  the  saints,  but 
the  art  calls  for  no  special  mention.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  the  Revolutionists  who  set  this  building  apart  to  the 
memory  of  great  men  interpreted  the  significance  of  its 


178  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

architecture  more  truly  than  those  who  consecrated  it  as 
a  church.  In  the  crypt,  an  extensive  underground  cav- 
ern, rests  Victor  Hugo.  His  tomb  is  covered  with  the 
memorials  of  friends,  and  wreaths  are  literally 
stacked  in  the  church.  In  this  crypt  Voltaire  and  Rous- 
seau lay  until  some  persons  in  a  fit  of  paltry  vengeance 
flung  their  bodies  out.  The  echo  through  these  cavern- 
ous arches  is  the  most  remarkable  I  ever  heard.  It  dis- 
tinctly articulates  words. 

Friday  morning  we  made  a  visit  to  the  Place  de  la 
Bastille,  the  site  of  the  old  prison.  There  is  nothing  to 
remind  one  of  the  horrors  of  that  horrid  fortress.  The 
situation  is  partly  covered  by  shops,  and  in  the  centre  of 
the  Place  a  beautiful  bronze  column  rises  to  commem- 
orate the  patriots  who  fell  in  the  Revolution  of  1830. 
These  columns,  which  are  erected  in  various  places,  are 
very  handsome.  That  of  the  Place  Vendome,  in  imita- 
tion of  the  Trajan  column  in  Rome,  is  a  magnificent  af- 
fair of  its  kind.  From  the  Bastille  we  rode  aroUnd  to 
the  Madeleine  through  some  of  the  finest  boulevards, 
past  the  Portes  St.  Denis  and  St.  Martin.  The  afternoon 
we  devoted  to  an  excursion  to  St.  Denis.  The  ride  was 
uninteresting,  but  the  church  would  have  repaid  a 
much  longer  ride.  This  church  has  been  for  twelve 
hundred  years  the  state  church.  Here  the  monarchs 
from  Dagobert  I.    to  Louis  XVIII.  have  found  a  final 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  179 

resting  place,  and  from  the  church  their  bones  were 
taken  and  cast,  by  that  hellish  Revolutionary  mob,  into 
a  common  grave.  By  a  strange  revolution  lyouis  XVI. 
and  the  unfortunate  Marie  Antoinette  now  repose  in  the 
despoiled  vaults.  The  church  is  a  very  fine  example  of 
the  transition  from  the  Norman  to  the  Gothic.  Without 
but  few  marks  of  the  Gothic  are  to  be  seen,  but  within 
the  pointed  arch  is  found  in  all  its  beauty.  The  stone  of 
the  interior  is  very  pure,  the  windows,  though  of  unfit- 
ting subjects,  are  rich  and  very  numerous.  The  choir  is 
raised,  a  novel  feature. 

Our  evenings  we  spend  in  reading  and  planning  our 
future  work.  I  have  been  reading  a  short  history  of 
France,  Hammerton's  Round  my  House,  and  Dickens' 
Tale  of  Two  Cities.  I  had  forgotten  how  powerful  a  book 
this  last  is.  Reading  has  almost  made  me  fear  to  go  to 
bed,  and  I  find  myself  looking  for  Madame  Defarge  and 
her  knitting. 

Saturday  morning  we  went  to  P^re  la  Chaise.  It 
did  not  appeal  to  us  as  a  very  beautiful  city  of  the  dead. 
We  found  the  graves  of  Heloise  and  Abelard  still  strewed 
with  fresh  flowers.  The  French  have  a  custom  of  highly 
decorating  the  graves  of  their  friends  with  the  most 
hideous  wreaths  of  beads,  dried  flowers  and  tissue  paper. 
The  effect  to  our  eyes  is  in  execrable  taste.  Many  of 
the  distinguished  dead  of  France  lie  here.  The  graves 
of  Musset,  of  Thiers,  of  Perier  we  visited. 


i8o  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

The  afternoon  took  us  to  the  louvre  to  see  the  cabi- 
net of  drawings.  Many  of  those  by  Raphael,  Michael 
Angelo  and  Iveonardo  were  of  great  interest.  We  lingered 
longest,  however,  in  the  rooms  of  the  modern  French  art. 
Delaroche,  Delacroix,  Ary  Scheffer  and  Ingres  were 
the  principal  artists.  In  many  ways  the  most  striking 
picture  we  saw  was  one  Victor  Giraud,  The  Slave 
Dealer.  It  represented  an  eastern  voluptuary  sur- 
veying a  shrinking  Circassian.  Two  pictures  of  Dela- 
roche, The  Death  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  The  Sons  of 
Edward  IV.  in  Prison,  were  full  of  life  and  character. 
Scheffer' s  Temptation  of  Christ  exaggerates  all  the  de- 
fects of  that  artist.  All  of  Ingres'  were  cold  and  dead. 
Troyon  had  two  magnificent  landscapes. 

Sundays  in  Paris  are  a  little  more  satisfactory  than  in 
some  places.  We  seem  to  be  within  reach  of  decidedly 
Christian  influences.  In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  hear 
Pere  Hyacinthe.  A  magnificent  sermon  he  preached. 
I  was  able  to  understand  nearly  every  word, 
and  was  so  borne  away  by  the  effort  of  listen- 
ing and  the  excitement  that  I  found  myself 
quite  exhausted.  The  subject  was  the  separation 
in  the  future  life  between  the  good  and  the  evil.  He 
ranged  himself  on  the  side  of  Origen,  and  advanced  the 
theory  of  punishment,  of  expiation,  and  final  restoration. 
He  used  Scripture  with  great  skill.     His  text  was  from 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  i8i 

Peter,  Christ  preaching  to  the  spirits  in  hell,  but  the  pas- 
sage he  used  with  greatest  power  was  from  Revelation  : 
"  I  am  Alpha,  etc.,  I  hold  the  keys  of  death  and  of  hell." 
Hell  and  its  subjects  are  given  to  Christ.  His  apostrophe 
to  Jesus  was  full  of  tender  eloquence.  The  church  itself 
seemed  a  kind  of  betwixt  and  between.  Things  were 
badly  managed.  One  small  boy  seemed  the  chief  func- 
tionary, and  he  attended  to  lighting  the  church  and  lead- 
ing the  choir,  besides  managing  other  affairs.  The 
church  building  was  small  and  bare,  yet  filled  to  its  ut- 
most capacity.  The  service  began  with  the  Lord's  prayer 
and  Apostles'  creed,  and  resembled  the  English  service,  but 
was  much  shorter.  The  censer  was  swung  and  the  holy 
water  was  at  the  door.  Hyacinthe  resembles  Mr.  Beecher 
very  much.  I  have  a  suspicion  that,  like  him,  he  may 
be  a  poor  and  unsafe  leader.  Certain  it  is,  his  movement 
is  not  growing  as  it  was  hoped. 

Paris,  Monday,  23  November. 
Our  morning  was  spent  in  rather  futile  attempts  to 
do  a  great  many  things  we  couldn't.  We  went  to  the 
Jardin  des  Plantes,  where  everything  was  closed,  and 
then  came  up  to  the  Palais  de  Justice.  We  tried  to  get 
into  the  Conciergerie,  and  found  that  a  more  dijQBicult  mat- 
ter than  in  1792.  It  was  not  open.  But  we  wan- 
dered about  the  Palais  de  Justice  to  our  hearts'  content. 


i82  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

One  hall  is  really  very  fine,  the  Salle  des  Pas-Perdus. 
The  court  rooms  were  numerous  and  small.  The  barris- 
ters who  were  to  be  seen  promenading  the  halls  in  their 
robes  and  caps  were  a  fine  looking  body  of  men.  The 
remainder  of  the  morning  we  spent  in  buying  our  daugh- 
ter's doll.  It,  as  everything  in  Paris,  seemed  dear,  but 
none  too  dear  for  such  a  daughter.  When  we  arrived 
home  we  found  we  had  been  honored  by  a  call  from  Hon. 
R.  M.  Mcl^ane,  Envoy  Extraordinary,  etc.  One  thing 
has  surprised  us  in  Paris.  We  find  less  courtesy  here 
among  all  classes  with  whom  we  come  in  contact  than  in 
any  other  country.  I  find  my  French  serves  all  pur- 
poses, although  I  feel  I  have  a  vantage  ground  when  I 
can  shop  in  lingua  vemacula. 

Tuesday  morning  was  chilly.  We  took  a  ride  in 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  in  the  morning.  The  park  is  per- 
fectly delightful,  and  was  full  of  gay  riders.  One  of  the 
prettiest  sights  I  ever  saw  was  a  mother  having  with  her 
three  golden-haired  daughters  on  prancing  steeds.  The 
mother  rode  magnificently.  In  the  afternoon  we  went 
to  the  Palais  lyuxembourg,  but  here  we  were  balked,  as  it 
was  closed  for  repairs.  We  spent  a  few  hours  pleasantly 
at  the  Jardin  des  Plantes.  Things  struck  us  as  a  little 
helter-skelter,  and  hardly  well  cared  for.  The  Zoolog- 
ical Gardens  do  not  compare  with  those  of  I^ondon  or  Ber- 
lin.    The  museum  was  of  chief  interest  from  an  ethnologi- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  183 

cal  point  of  view.  The  collection  included  types  of  every 
known  race  of  men.  The  conservatories  were  not  spe- 
cially interesting. 

The  days  are  so  short  here  that  it  is  really  difficult 
to  make  a  full  day.  Wednesday  was  quite  rainy,  and  I 
only  went  out  once.  In  the  morning  we  went  to  the 
lyouvre,  and  spent  two  hours  among  the  bronzes,  draw- 
ings, Egyptian  and  Greek  antiquities  and  articles  of 
vertu.  The  sight  of  the  snuff  boxes  was  enough  to  bring 
tears  to  the  eyes,  even  though  they  had  been  long  inno- 
cent of  snuff.  Some  of  the  antiquities  were  wonderfully 
fine.  Some  of  the  drawings  by  the  great  artists  were  full 
of  interest.  The  exuberance  of  Titian's  fancy  is  seen  in 
his  drawings  even  more  than  in  his  paintings. 

From  the  Louvre  we  went  out,  by  the  way  the  Empress 
escaped,  to  the  church  of  St.  Germain  I'Auxerrois.  It  is 
a  handsome  Gothic  church,  but  it  is  plain  that  the  best 
life  of  the  French  has  not  gone  into  the  churches,  as  in 
Italy.  We  next  walked  along  the  quay,  and  took  an  om- 
nibus for  the  Gobelins  tapestry  works.  We  found  these 
very  interesting,  both  in  the  exhibition  and  in  the  manu- 
factory. The  process  was  much  slower  than  I  had  sup- 
posed. Six  square  inches  is  a  day's  work.  The  velvet 
carpets  here  made  by  hand,  though  laboriously  wrought, 
hardly  seem  to  be  superior  in  appearance  to  similar 
carpets  of  machine  workmanship.     It  was  three  when  we 


i84  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

returned  home,  and  thus  our  day's  work  out  of  doors  was 
finished. 

Thanksgiving  Day. 
Not  very  much  like  our  customary  day  of 
Thanksgiving!  In  the  first  place  the  rain  poured, 
an  unusual  occurrence,  and  in  the  next  place 
we  had  neither  turkey  nor  cranberry  sauce.  But  we 
did  go  to  church  and  listened  for  an  hour  while  the  good 
minister  tried  to  prove  (beginning  with  Adam)  that  we 
are  living  in  the  best  days  of  the  world.  As  if  we  had 
not  realized  that  every  day  since  we  left  home.  From 
the  church  we  took  a  carriage  and  rode  to  the  Prefecture 
of  Police,  where  we  got  permission  to  visit  the  Con- 
ciergerie.  Few  buildings  are  so  full  of  melancholy  in- 
terest. The  narrow  cell  in  which  the  unhappy  Queen 
was  confined  still  holds  the  chair  in  which  she  sat  and 
the  cross  before  which  she  prayed.  It  was  not  a  dun- 
geon dark  and  damp,  but  cold,  cheerless  and  bare.  By 
that  irony  of  events  which  we  so  often  see  illustrated,  the 
cell  where  Robespierre  passed  his  last  night  adjoined  that 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  while  just  beyond  was  the  room 
from  which  the  Girondists  went  to  the  scaffold.  It  must 
have  been  with  a  sense  of  mighty  triumph  over  her  ene- 
mies that  the  unfortunate  Queen  passed  from  the  cell 
through  its  low  door  to  the  scaffold.  "Six  francs  for  a 
cofl5n  for  the  widow  Capet."     It  was  the  last  indignity 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  185 

that  could  be  oflFered,  and  then  she  slept  well.  Oh,  what 
a  city  of  horrors  is  this  ! 

lycaving  the  Conciergerie  we  drove  to  Napoleon's 
tomb.  Here  we  saw  the  remnant  of  another  drama. 
He  sleeps,  too.  That  brain,  that  heart,  have  long  ceased 
to  throb.  The  memorial  is  most  fitting  to  that  man  who 
once  convulsed  Europe,  and  who  rose  to  the  summit  of 
earthly  grandeur  and  fell  to  the  depths  of  earthly  failure. 
In  an  open  circular  vault  rests  the  sarcophagus  of  blood- 
red  stone  in  which  the  body  lies.  Around  it  are  figures 
of  marble  and  battle  flags  fast  falling  to  decay.  The 
Church  of  the  Invalides  is  hardly  more  than  one  vast 
tomb,  for  I  think  it  doubtful  if  worship  is  ever  here  held. 
The  architecture  is  Corinthian,  and  the  marble  of  column 
and  floor  is  white  and  fair. 

The  Hotel  des  Invalides  itself,  which  we  first  visited, 
is  an  enormous  building,  but  now  sparsely  inhabited. 
Around  the  court  of  honor  run  colonnades,  similar  to  a 
cloister,  and  frescoed  on  these  walls  are  scenes  from  the 
history  of  France.  The  Museum  differs  but  little  from 
other  military  museums.  A  pleasant  and  talkative  sol- 
dier showed  us  several  things  of  interest.  Among  them 
was  a  certificate  of  membership  in  the  Society  of  Cincin- 
nati given  to  a  French  General  and  signed  by  George 
Washington.  The  swords  of  Napoleon  and  the  Gener- 
als, the  saddles  of  the  later  Kings  of  France,   including 


i86  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Louis  XVI.  and  Charles  X.,  were  of  interest.  All  these 
things  make  me  hate  war  more  and  more.  Would  they 
were  all  beaten  into  plow-shares  and  pruning  hooks  ! 

Friday  proved  to  be  the  first  bright  day  of  the  week, 
and  we  were  glad  to  improve  it  by  going  to  Versailles. 
We  took  the  train  at  eleven  thirty,  from  the  Gare  St. 
Lazare,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  were  landed  in  the  his- 
toric town.  St.  Cloud  and  Sevres,  through  which  we 
went,  should  have  had  a  visit.  As  it  was,  we 
found  our  time  insufficient  for  inspecting  the  unri- 
valed attractions  of  the  palace.  The  garden  and  park 
we  were  obliged  to  pass  without  a  look,  except  such  as 
we  gained  from  the  windows  of  the  palace.  I  had  not 
supposed  the  buildings  to  be  in  a  town,  and  it  was  there- 
fore something  of  a  surprise  to  drive  up  to  the  palace 
gate  through  a  no  inconsiderable  town.  The  exterior  ap- 
pearance of  the  palace  does  not  differ  materially  from 
similar  buildings  belonging  to  its  period.  It  stretches 
out  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  and  incloses 
numerous  wings  and  courts.  In  the  front  court  stands 
a  bronze  statue  of  the  Louis  called  the  Great.  We  entered 
the  palace  by  the  vestibule  of  the  chapel,  a  beautiful 
room  of  the  early  eighteenth  century.  The  rooms  of  the 
palace  are  now  converted  into  picture  and  sculpture  gal- 
leries, and  a  mere  synopsis  of  the  paintings  would  fill 
this  book.     There  were  miles  of  them,  and  hardly  a  poor 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  187 

picture  among  them.  They  represented  every  phase  of 
French  history  and  every  man  great  in  the  military  or 
political  history  of  France,  from  Clovis  to  Napoleon  III.'s 
downfall.  The  battle  scenes  of  Horace  Vernet  and  the 
diplomatic  scenes  of  Gallait,  the  paintings  of  Ary  Scheffer, 
of  David,  of  Gros,  of  Lebrun,  of  Gerard  and  Ger6me, 
were  true  works  of  art.  Days  might  be  spent  in  those 
rooms.  The  magnificence  of  the  paintings  almost  ob- 
scures the  magnificence  of  the  rooms  themselves.  The 
Gallerie  des  Glaces  is  one  of  the  most  magnificently  deco- 
rated rooms  we  have  seen  in  Europe.  The  apartments 
of  the  Queens,  occupied  by  the  three  Maries,  the  wives 
of  lyouis  XIV. ,  XV.  and  XVI. ,  were  elegant  apartments. 
But  most  touching  were  the  cozy  half-dozen  little  rooms 
known  as  the  petits  apartments  de  Marie  Antoinette. 
Here  were  passed  the  happy  days  of  that  unfortunate 
woman,  and  here  her  friends  gathered  as  related  by 
Madam  Campan.  The  bolts  on  the  windows  and  doors 
were  made  by  the  King,  and  bore  her  monogram.  In 
the  room  which  contains  David's  magnificent  paintings  of 
the  Coronation  of  Napoleon  and  that  of  his  Marriage  to 
Maria  lyouisa,  stands  also  Vela's  sculpture  of  the  Last 
Days  of  Napoleon,  of  which  that  at  Washington  is  a  re- 
plica. We  passed  through  last  the  Gallery  of  Battles. 
Blood,  blood,  always  blood  !  Here  we  saw  a  painting  of 
The  Siege  of  York  town,  or,  as  it  was  spelled,   Yorck- 


i88  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

Town,  in  which  a  French  General  is  giving  the  orders 
for  a  final  charge,  and  George  Washington  stands  in  the 
background.     Such  are  fame  and  fate  ! 

We  walked  to  the  station,  and  at  half  past  six  were 
eating  dinner  at  Hotel  de  la  Tamise. 

Saturday  again  proved  rainy,  and  going  out  proved 
a  duty  rather  than  a  pleasure.  In  the  morning  we  paid 
our  last  visit  to  the  Louvre,  and  spent  most  of  our  time 
among  the  pictures.  Those  of  the  earlier  French  school 
we  rather  slighted  upon  our  first  visit,  and  to  them  we 
gave  a  large  share  of  attention.  I  have  very  little  rea- 
son to  change  the  opinion  of  French  art  which  I  hitherto 
formed.  Most  of  the  pictures  seem  trivial,  or  cold  or 
sensational.  We  were  struck  with  one  picture  by 
an  artist  before  unknown,  representing  the  scene 
at  the  pool  of  Bethesda.  It  was  with  a  little  throb 
of  regret  that  I  turned  my  back  on  this  great  work. 
The  pictures  we  have  seen  have,  on  the  whole,  given  me 
great  and  lasting  pleasure. 

London,  Friday,  4  December. 
Once  more  in  the  world's  metropolis,  for  such  this  great, 
smoky,  dirty,  muddy,  foggy  city  is.  There  is  more  to 
it  in  every  way  than  any  city  we  have  seen.  Paris,  in  spite 
of  its  gay  streets  and  glitter,  did  not  seem  to  us  prosper- 
ous.    The  impression  the  place  gave  was  one  of  living 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  189 

beyond  its  means.  And  this  the  Government  is  cer- 
tainly doing.  The  Republican  ideas  have  taken  deep 
hold  on  the  imagination  of  the  people,  and  I  fear  each  is 
more  desirous  of  obtaining  liberty,  equality  and  frater- 
nity for  himself  than  to  give  them  to  others.  The  rights 
of  citizenship  appeal  to  the  Frenchman  more  than  their 
duties.  It  is  said  a  marked  decline  in  the  manners  of 
the  humble  Parisians  is  discernible  within  the  last  few 
years.  It  must  be  so,  if  ever  their  reputation  for  courtesy 
was  merited.  Nowhere  in  Europe  have  we  received  less 
politeness  from  the  common  people.  The  cab  conductors 
were  hardly  decently  civil. 

We  left  Paris  with  what  we  have  not  before  had  on 
the  continent — a  trunk.  Our  troubles  began.  It  seemed 
doubtful  if  the  hackman  could  manage  it,  modest  as 
were  its  proportions  compared  with  the  conventional 
Saratoga.  We  had  five  francs  and  over  to  pay  extra  for 
its  passage,  and  we  spent  some  eight  francs  for  it  before 
we  got  it  to  our  lodgings.  The  train  was  swift,  and 
swayed  so  as  to  give  us  fore  tastes  of  what  the  channel 
had  in  store.  And  what  did  the  channel  have  in  store  ? 
First,  cruel  separation!  These  channel  boats  are  like  a 
Quaker  meeting  house.  Next,  darkness  and  vile  sick- 
ness. I  had  a  very  comfortable  time.  But  when  poor 
Charles  staggered  into  the  cabin  after  the  boat  was 
moored  he  looked  as  if  he  had  never,  never  loved  me.  I  had 


I90  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

hard  work  to  sustain  him  to  the  cars  and  get  him  covered 
with  rugs.  Our  custom  house  examination  was  light. 
The  box  of  blacking  and  homeopathic  remedies  alone  ex- 
cited the  officer's  suspicions. 

Thursday  rose  as  a  typical  lyondon  day,  which  is  an 
intensified  Boston  day  ;  a  sullen  sky  and  persistent  rain 
and  slop.  We  took  our  dinner  and  went  to  the  Dor6  Gal- 
lery, where  for  two  hours  we  were  intensely  moved  by 
the  noble  genius  of  that  great  artist.  In  some  respects 
the  most  powerful  modern  picture  we  have  seen  is  Christ 
on  the  way  from  the  Judgment  Hall  to  Calvary.  The 
union  of  dignity,  pity  and  of  joyful  sacrifice  in  the  figure 
of  the  Saviour  is  wonderful.  The  Vale  of  Tears,  Dora's 
last  work,  was  to  me  very  impressive.  Representatives 
of  every  class  of  people  from  the  King  to  the  beggars 
are  pressing  to  the  cross-bearing  Christ,  who  beckons 
from  afar.  In  all  some  thirty  pictures,  besides  sketches, 
are  here  exhibited. 

Friday  how  it  rained,  and  what  a  profitless  day  we 
spent !  I  was  the  whole  day  in  getting  things  ready  to 
pack  and  in  packing.  We  had  intended  to  take  a  Canter- 
bury pilgrimage,  but  were  obliged  to  defer  it  until  Sat- 
urday. We  took  a  swift  train  at  ten  fifty-five,  and  re- 
turned at  half  past  three,  giving  us  three  hours  and  a 
half  in  the  quaint  old  town.  We  walked  up  to  the  Ca- 
thedral, and  reached  it  through  the  Mercery  Lane,  the  fa- 


CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING.  191 

vorite  resort  of  the  pilgrims.  It  is  a  noble  old  Cathe- 
dral. Its  tower  is  remarkable  for  its  springy  effect. 
The  interior  is  divided  quite  entirely  into  two  parts.  The 
nave  is  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  is  in  no  way  re- 
markable. The  choir,  which  is  separated  from  it  by  a 
stone  screen,  is  raised  above  the  level  of  the  floor  of  the 
nave ,  and  is  a  most  interesting  example  of  the  transition 
from  the  Norman  to  the  Gothic.  Its  date  is  1175.  Sev- 
eral windows  of  the  thirteenth  century  are  of  great 
beauty.  Nothing  is  left  of  the  shrine  of  Becket. 
Reformation  zeal  tore  down  the  shrine  and  scattered  the 
ashes,  but  the  steps  and  flags  worn  by  the  feet  and  knees 
of  the  pious  pilgrims  who  came  to  do  homage  at  his  tomb 
may  still  be  seen.  The  place  where  he  fell  (not  by  the 
high  altar)  is  likewise  pointed  out.  The  tomb  of  the 
Black  Prince,  overhung  by  the  armor  he  wore  at  Crescy, 
makes  the  exploits  of  that  brave  prince  seem  very  real. 
The  crypts  of  the  Cathedral  are  not  only  very  interest- 
ing in  themselves,  but  especially  so  from  the  fact  they 
sheltered  the  Huguenots,  who  fled  from  France  after  the 
revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  Here  their  looms 
were  placed  and  here  they  met  for  worship.  On  the 
walls  may  be  seen  texts  of  Scripture  not  yet  obliterated. 
A  part  of  the  crypt  is  still  used  for  worship  by  some  of 
the  descendants  of  these  men,  who  still  retain  their  lan- 
guage. 


192  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

A  walk  of  a  half  hour  brought  us  to  St.  Martin's, 
the  oldest  Christian  church  in  England,  the  very  cradle 
of  our  Anglo-Saxon  Christianity.  A  small,  quaint  little 
church  it  is,  beautifully  situated  on  a  quiet  knoll  overlook- 
ing the  town,  but  it  has  been  evidently  much  restored.  We 
did  not  get  into  it,  but  peeped  in  through  the  locked 
gates.  In  the  quiet  little  churchyard  in  front  a  lady 
was  at  work  setting  out  plants. 

Sunday  we  made  a  full  day.  In  the  morning  we  went 
to  City  Temple  to  hear  Dr.  Newth,  but  he  did  not 
preach.  Yet  we  heard  a  most  excellent  sermon  on  repent- 
ance. In  the  afternoon  we  visited  the  Temple  Sunday 
School  in  quest  of  ideas,  but  soon  made  up  our  minds 
that  we  could  give  these  people  more  ideas  than  they 
could  digest.  One  thing  struck  us,  the  teachers  were  very 
young,  mere  boys  and  girls.  We  next  went  down  to 
Lincoln  Inn  Chapel,  where  we  heard  the  service  chanted 
by  choir  boys  and  priests,  and  also  a  sermon  by  Canon 
Wace. 

Monday  we  tried  to  do  a  little  work,  and  spent  a 
part  of  the  hours  of  daylight  in  the  National  Gallery  and 
South  Kensington  Museum.  It  was  pleasant  to  renew 
our  impressions  of  these  wonderful  collections.  Turner's 
greatness  impressed  itself  anew.  No  other  of  the  British 
school  seems  really  great.  At  South  Kensington  we 
went  through  several  rooms  that  we  did  not  see  before, 


CARRIE  F.   BUTLER   THWING.  193 

and  examined  more  carefully  Raphael's  cartoons.  Christ 
giving  the  keys  to  Peter,  although  one  of  the  most 
injured,  seemed  to  me  the  finest.  The  face  of  our 
Saviour  may  be  compared  with  that  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion. Several  modern  pictures  are  of  great  interest. 
Napoleon  watching  the  shores  of  France  recede  when  on 
his  way  to  St.  Helena,  is  interesting  from  an  historical 
as  well  as  artistic  point  of  view.  Britannia's  Realm  was 
also  striking.  Several  of  L/andseer's  smaller  pictures 
are  here.  The  Forster  manuscripts  we  found  very  in- 
teresting. They  include  several  complete  manuscripts  of 
Dickens'  novels,  and  letters  from  distinguished  states- 
men and  men  of  letters,  such  as  Napoleon,  Charles  I., 
Elizabeth,  Milton,  Wordsworth,  Emerson,  lyongfellow, 
and  others.  Tuesday  we  finished  up.  I  spent  considerable 
time  in  Paternoster  Row  and  in  the  Sunday  School  Union 
rooms,  and  made  final  purchases.  Dr.  Charles  Dana  Bar- 
rows lunched  with  us  at  the  Hoi  born,  where  we  sat  long 
over  the  board,  I  stayed  in  during  the  afternoon,  and  at 
six  o'clock  dined  with  the  Barrows,  at  the  Grand  Hotel, 
where  we  sat  still  longer  over  the  board.  Wednesday  was 
consumed  in  packing.  It  was  an  Herculean  task,  and  one 
we  almost  despaired  of.  We  had  intended  to  take  the 
one  o'clock  train  for  Oxford  ;  instead  we  took  the  half  past 
three.  We  bade  London  farewell  with  few  regrets.  At 
half  past  five  we  were  in  Oxford,  and  five  minutes  later  we 


194  CARRIE  F.  BUTLER  THWING. 

were  shivering  at  the  Randolph  over  a  fire  so  insufficient 
as  to  make  the  cold  more  apparent.  These  English  keep 
their  houses  mortally  cold.  In  the  evening  we  were 
talking  with  a  Scotchman,  and  he  spoke  of  55°  being 
the  point  at  which  they  keep  their  rooms  in  winter. 

New  York,  20  December,  1885. 
We  landed  from  the  Oregon  in  a  biting  wind,  the 
anniversary  of  the  Mayflower's  landing.  We  had  been 
lying  off  New  York  harbor  since  early  morning,  but  it 
was  noon  before  we  disembarked.  Edwin  was  on  the 
wharf,  and  it  seemed  pleasant  enough  to  see  a  familiar 
face. 

The  End. 


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